Hurricane Sam
by Teej
Summary: Sandburg isn't the only one in his family with the 'luck'...


Disclaimer  
  
The characters I borrowed from TS and North of 60 are not mine, and I make no claim to them, nor do I expect to receive any monetary benefit from this work of fiction. Sam, however, is all mine.  
  
Title: Hurricane Sam  
  
Author: Terrijo  
  
Rating: PG, mostly for language.  
  
Warning: OC. You've been warned, if you don't like 'em, stay away, stay very far away! Also Blair is still a cop.  
  
Spoiler: None that I can think of.  
  
Archive: Cascade Library and Guide Posts, please?? Also please link to my site.  
  
http://stormwarnings.homestead.com/index.html  
  
1 Summary  
  
It would appear that Blair really does have cousins, well, one at least, and this one seems to have the classic Sandburgian luck...  
  
  
  
For those who are interested.  
  
There is also an illustrated version of this story available. It is however quite large, (9MB) and can only be sent in parts. How I am gonna do it is another story. wg  
  
If you want it just email me at Theteej2@looksmart.com then bear with me as I figure out how to send it to you! I may be able to send it in zip files.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
1.1  
  
1.2 Hurricane Sam  
  
Tuesday, Major Crimes Bullpen, Sunset  
  
"Jim, don't forget!" Connor's voice lilted as she stood and stretched. Another day had come to an end in the bullpen of Major Crime. Waning sunlight filtered weakly through Simon's office windows, losing the battle to the electric lights as they compensated for the approaching dusk.  
  
At his desk, Ellison glanced up from his computer, fixing the slender woman with ice blue eyes and giving absolutely nothing away from his handsome, if stoic, features.  
  
"The Martinez Case goes to trial tomorrow, we're both needed," she supplied. The barest of frowns appeared, lips pulled downward as he studied her thoughtfully.  
  
"Martinez?" another voice asked. Blair Sandburg, ensconced behind his own computer, glanced up and over at his partner.  
  
"Case Jim and I worked on while you were at the academy, Sandy. I was told it goes to trial tomorrow at 9:00."  
  
"Why wasn't I notified?" Jim replied tersely.  
  
"You were.notification is buried under that file there." Megan grinned pointing at the file in question as she swung the strap to her purse over her shoulder. Jim's frown gave way to disgust as he lifted the file and spotted the message. Earlier that week they had gone over the case with the D.A.'s office but he didn't recall being told when the case was going to trial.  
  
"Oh man, does that mean what I think it means?" Blair asked, watching Jim as he read the notice. The older detective heaved a sigh.  
  
"'Fraid so, Chief." He crunched the notice in one hand as he sat back in his chair, gazing at Connor, grateful for a chance to lean away from his desk.  
  
"I am so sick of paperwork!" Blair proclaimed, "We've been stuck inside for three days now and it's been gorgeous outside!"  
  
"Yeah, it has been! Rafe and Henri are still out workin' that Lincoln Park job too." Megan grinned at Blair. "Rafe's sportin' on a very nice tan!"  
  
"Looks like it's gonna be a few more days of the same, Chief. This Martinez case is guaranteed to be a long one. Besides, maybe by that time you'll get my paperwork caught up, too."  
  
"Look smart ass, we've generated enough between the two of us to where I resign as your secretary." Blair grumbled propping his elbows on his desk and rubbing at his face. His fingers reached into his tapered, now shortened dark curls, until he gripped two fists full and glared at his monitor. To everyone's surprise, he'd been maintaining his shorter hairstyle.  
  
"Well since you're stuck without a partner for a while, you've got to be busy doing something." Jim looked over at him with a smug smirk. "The thought of you being bored?" Jim gave a mock shiver. "Scary."  
  
"Maybe I'll just ride with Joel while you're preoccupied and rotting away in the courtroom." Blair raised an eyebrow and looked askance at the other.  
  
"He just left with his wife on vacation this arvo." Megan replied.  
  
"Arvo?" Jim asked.  
  
"Afternoon," Blair automatically responded. "No wonder I haven't seen him today."  
  
"Seems my paperwork just might get down after all!"  
  
"You can stuff your paperwork Jim." Blair growled.  
  
"Wish I could." Jim muttered.  
  
"I'm done and heading home. You two enjoy your.er, evening!" Connor chortled as she started to exit the bullpen. Jim stood up and stretched, raising his arms over his head and clasping one wrist. Several audible pops from his spine sent a shudder through Blair.  
  
"Thanks for the warning." Blair grumbled after her.  
  
"Erroo!" she chirped and disappeared.  
  
"She's enjoying this entirely too much."  
  
"It's what we get for maintaining the best arrest rate in the department, Chief." Jim said, twisting his neck and working out the kinks. "A mountain of paperwork.I'm gonna go get some coffee, want some?"  
  
"Yeah, I gotta finish getting these notes worked up for the Peterson murder."  
  
"Peterson Murder?" Jim asked scowling down at the seated detective from his 6'2". "That was yesterday's case. I'm still on that drug heist in the Island Estates case."  
  
"Man, I was done with those two days ago!" Blair scrubbed at his face, and looked up at his partner. Jim snorted softly, shaking his head.  
  
"You are definitely going to do my paperwork while I'm in court. Not to mention cooking me dinner for the next few days," he announced flatly.  
  
"Excuse me?" Blair looked at him, eyebrows rising, challenging. "Who cooks breakfast?"  
  
"Who left their clothes all over the bathroom floor again?" Jim shot back.  
  
"Who was dumb enough to pick them up?"  
  
"Who's gonna be scrubbing said bathroom with his toothbrush if he doesn't do what he's told?"  
  
"Jim!" Blair growled through gritted teeth, "So help me."  
  
Somewhere, a phone rang.  
  
"I'm going to go get my coffee. I think steak, on the grill, will be good for you to cook tonight."  
  
"Tonight? Wait a sec! It's your night to cook!" Blair protested.  
  
"Not anymore." Jim replied his voice floating back from the hallway.  
  
The phone rang again. Blair, miffed, glanced over at Simon, who had been sequestered in his office all day, also struggling through his own mound of files and paperwork. Summer tended to generate more crime anywhere you went. The Captain of the Cascade PD Major Crime unit snagged the phone off the hook in a gesture which Blair recognized as being one of irritation. He turned away just as Simon was starting to look up and forced his attention back on the monitor.  
  
"Sandburg!" The Captain bellowed, causing Blair to visibly flinch. He did not like the tone in the big man's voice. He slowly turned around putting his best 'who me?' look on his features.  
  
"Get in here!" Simon hollered, clearly not amused, and holding up the phone.  
  
Genuinely surprised, Blair rose from his desk and cautiously entered the man's office.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Did you ever tell you're Mom NOT to use my private office line?"  
  
"Mom?" Blair asked, then a grin broke over his features, revealing that part of Blair Sandburg which had gotten to every single detective in the unit. His natural effervescence bubbled out. "Is that Naomi?"  
  
"As a matter of fact it's not!" Simon snapped, "It's the Nurse's Station in Kitimat!"  
  
"Nurse's Station?" Blair started; his smile vanishing, now thoroughly confused. "Who'd be calling me from Canada?"  
  
"That's what I want to know!" Simon snarled, "And why would they be asking for you here!" He shot an arm out, holding the phone toward him. Blair swallowed uneasily, not liking the smolder in Simon's brown eyes. Gingerly, he took the phone from his boss, lifting it to his ear as Simon stabbed at the hold button.  
  
"Detective Sandburg." he said trying to sound professional and eyeing Simon with a combination of confusion and wariness.  
  
"Blair Sandburg?" a male voice asked.  
  
"Speaking."  
  
"I'm Corporal Eric Olssen with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police."  
  
"Mounted Police." Blair interrupted, "I thought this was the Nurse's Station?"  
  
"It is, Detective. I'm calling from their office."  
  
"Oh sure," Blair scrambled, recovering from the gaffe.  
  
"I'm calling about you're cousin, Sam McClennen."  
  
It had been a good long while since Simon had seen Blair lose all the color in his face.  
  
"Uh could you repeat that, sir?" Blair asked softly, his eyes suddenly distant. Simon felt a twinge of irritation at how he suddenly was interested in the conversation going on on the other end of the line.  
  
"Your cousin, Sam McClennen. We've got her here in the Kitimat Nurse's Station. She's been involved in an explosion of a research vessel out at Pitt Island. She asked us to contact you."  
  
"Explosion? Research..whoa wait a minute? Is Sam all right?" Blair asked, his eyes focusing on Simon.  
  
"Well considering she was the vessel's sole survivor, yes, she's doing very well, got some nasty lacerations across her back and shoulders where the docking cable from the research ship hit her as she was returning to her own craft. She asked us to contact you because she seems very anxious to get out of here, and we don't think she's well enough to go back out on her boat."  
  
Blair winced at the brief description Olssen gave him, while his mind registered details.  
  
"Corporal? Can I speak with Sam?"  
  
"Yes of course, we just needed to contact you and make sure some sort of arrangements could be made to help her out. It's the liability thing."  
  
"Sure I understand, I think I can even get the next few days off." he looked at Simon with the most appealing look he could muster as he placed a hand over the mouth piece of the phone and silently mouthed.  
  
"Emergency."  
  
"You need someone who can sail the yacht, right?" he said into the phone.  
  
"That's the idea." Olssen replied.  
  
"Yacht?" Simon whispered out loud, suddenly seeing visions of Blair at the helm of a huge cabin cruiser and distinctly feeling uneasy. Blair waved a hand to shush him.  
  
"I can do that, can I speak with Sam now?"  
  
"Yeah sure.Just come back on the line with me when you're done and we'll make arrangement to pick you up. She says she has the airfare to fly you up."  
  
"You tell Sam no way! I'll get up there." Blair replied. Olssen chuckled.  
  
"I wouldn't want to argue with her. Let me switch you over." Olssen put him on hold. As he waited Blair groped behind him and pulled the chair over so he could sit.  
  
"My cousin's been involved in an explosion on a research ship up in Kitimat." Blair whispered hastily to Simon. "Sam wants out of there and the RCMP's needs someone to sail the yacht."  
  
"You have a cousin who owns a yacht?" Simon hissed, glaring at the younger man. "Am I to believe that you actually do have a living, breathing, cousin and not just something you make up at the spur of the moment?"  
  
"Simon!" Blair protested. "I have 14 cousins, most of 'em in Texas. Sam's my Mom's sister's kid."  
  
"Sandburg, the only relation of yours we've ever seen is your Mother!" Simon shot back.  
  
"That's because Sam left for California after we graduated with our Master's. We went to school together up 'til about 5 years ago!"  
  
"There were two of you?" Simon exclaimed, not liking what he was visioning at all. Blair only returned a slightly devious smile.  
  
"Sam is two years younger than me.and Rainier's best kept secret." The Captain groaned as a voice on the other end of the line caught Blair's attention.  
  
"Blair?"  
  
The very familiar voice sounded weary and slightly slurred.  
  
"Sam? Are you all right?"  
  
"I'm feeling no pain at all at the moment." she tried to sound light hearted, but her joking fell a little flat. "I'm sorry to hassle you like this, Blair."  
  
"Sam, are you all right?" he stressed.  
  
"Yes, yes I am. Just got some nasty cuts is all. These folks aren't gonna let me sail and I need to get the Sundogs to her new slip by the weekend or I'll loose it. I wanted to surprise you."  
  
"New slip.You're moving back to Cascade?"  
  
"Yeah, and slip space is hard to get. I've been waiting 8 months for an opening, and it just came up recently. I've been working in Alaska the last two years," she rambled softly. Blair's mind scrambled to remember her ramblings as Jim suddenly appeared in the doorway, looking curiously at them both. Blair fixed him with a beseeching look.  
  
"Sam, slow down!" he said. "Tell me what happened."  
  
"I've been in the Outer Banks, helping in a joint experimental rehabilitation project for the University of Alaska and British Columbia. We were anchored at Haniak Inlet on Pitt Island when the ship blew up. I was just getting out of my dinghy onto Sundogs when the cable fastening me to the ship snapped and got me." her voice suddenly trailed off. "My god Blair, I was the only one who lived."  
  
"Sammy, don't fade out on me now, when do you need to get the boat to Cascade?"  
  
"By the 10th," she said coming back. Simon glanced at Jim and nodded at Blair, who abruptly rose and peered down at the calendar blotter on the Captain's desk. The current day being the 5th. It was also Tuesday. He glanced at Jim who was starting to tip his head in an oh so familiar gesture. He scowled at him, poking a finger under his own ear and shook his head no. The tall detective rolled his eyes, shrugging at Simon who groaned again. Jim casually sipped his coffee, watching his partner.  
  
"I'm gonna make arrangement with Corporal Olssen, Sam. I should be up there tomorrow sometime. What kind of injuries did you get?"  
  
"Cuts mostly, across my shoulders. They said something about stitches, and infection.I am really sorry about all this, Blair."  
  
"It's okay Sam, did they say how many stitches?"  
  
"40? Or was it 50?" her voice began to drift again.  
  
"40 stitches?"  
  
"I think it was 50.I'm kinda tired, Blair," she said softly.  
  
"Sam, you get some rest. Put Corporal Olssen back on the line for me."  
  
"Yeah, hang on." she said quietly. The line went dead again.  
  
Both Jim and Simon were looking at him with raised eyebrows.  
  
"40 stitches? What the hell happened?" Jim asked.  
  
"Snapped cable across the shoulders." Blair replied, waving a hand across his own, behind his neck. Jim winced, as he looked at Simon.  
  
"Can I take off 'til Sunday? We have to claim the slip space by then."  
  
"We?" Jim asked.  
  
"I just can't leave Sam out to dry.it's my cousin, man!"  
  
"One of the fictitious Texan gang?" Jim asked.  
  
"Oh no! This is the one who went to school with him, starting at the same time as he did, at the age of fourteen!"  
  
"You never mentioned a cousin going to school the same time you did." Jim said.  
  
"You never asked." Blair replied. "Besides Mom showed you the pictures in her photo album."  
  
"I think someone's put Megan up to a little plan to get out of town while you're stuck in court tomorrow." Simon said, smirking knowingly.  
  
"I'd buy it if Connor weren't going to be in that courtroom with me." Jim replied. Simon frowned glancing up at him.  
  
"Martinez case, Simon."  
  
"Oh that one."  
  
"Still, sounds like something Blair would put Henri up to just to get out of my paperwork for the next few days."  
  
"I'd buy that too if the damn phone call hadn't have come through the Kitimat Nurse's Station on my private line." Simon growled.  
  
"You guys are pathetic." Blair said. Olssen suddenly came on the line.  
  
"Olssen."  
  
"Corporal.what kind of arrangements do we need to make here?" Blair asked, snagging a pen from Simon's desk and ignoring the affronted glare from the man, he then snatched up a handy post it note. The pen flew as he began scribbling information.  
  
"By 9am. Okay. Cascade Air Harbor, right...flight 18. Okay. You will? Great. All right sir, I'll be there. Listen, just what are they giving Sam for the pain?"  
  
He looked at Jim and frowned.  
  
"Isn't that a bit strong?" he winced again. "Okay, tomorrow then. Gotcha." He heaved a sigh and handed the receiver to Simon. "I got to be at Cascade Air Harbor at 6am, tomorrow." He looked at Jim.  
  
"Wait a minute here now, Chief, isn't this all just a little too sudden? I mean, you're planning on dropping everything at a few minutes notice to fly up to where? To help a cousin neither one of us has ever heard about? Doesn't this sound a bit off to you?"  
  
"C'mon Jim." Blair stood up. "Don't tell me you wouldn't do this to go and help Steven." The look Jim gave him started to say otherwise. "Don't give me that either!" Blair responded. "You know you would now that the fences are being mended. Or what if it was Carolyn?" He looked at Simon.  
  
"Can I get the time Simon?"  
  
"Sandburg." Jim growled, fixing him with his infamous glare. "With the way you attract trouble I know something will go wrong here!" He looked at Simon also.  
  
"Is there any way of getting a delay on the Martinez case? I should go with him."  
  
"Hold it Jim, just hold it right there!" Blair started, his hands moving in protest.  
  
"On a high profile case like this one, Ellison? Are you out of you're mind?" Simon snapped. "A conviction in this case is essential! I can't just let you go traipsing off to rescue Sandburg's cousin!"  
  
"Simon."Jim started.  
  
"Don't you Simon me!"  
  
"Captain!" Ellison gritted out, his jaw muscles clenching. "You know how his luck runs!"  
  
"Hey guys, I am here you know." Blair snapped. "It's just a few days trip back down Jim. I've sailed that boat hundreds of times. It's been in the family for years now. I'm going to be met by Corporal Olssen in Kitimat, sail the boat back to Cascade and be home in time to watch that practice game between Seattle and the Jets on Sunday. What could go wrong?"  
  
"You're the last one who should be saying that." Jim growled, fixing him in the laser spotlight again. "And I damn well don't like it! Who is this cousin and why haven't you ever mentioned him before?"  
  
"You never asked!" Blair snapped back. "Sam got a Masters when I got mine and headed for a plum position working for the Monterey Bay Aquarium, in the rehabilitation department. We went our separate ways.Mom keeps in touch. How Sam ended up working in Alaska I'll never know, but for cryin' out loud! Sam's called me for help and I intend on going up there and sailing that rig down!"  
  
"You won't be able to sail it if I have you chained up somewhere." Jim replied, his voice dropping low. Simon's eyes rolled. Jim was obviously in full 'protector' mode.  
  
"Jim.he's only gonna be in my hair the next few days and I have work I've got to do." He aimed his last remark at them both. "Take your arguing out of my office! You've got plenty of time Sandburg, go and do what you have to do. But I'm telling you this." He fixed Blair with an equally intimidating glare.  
  
"You get into any, and I mean ANY, kind of trouble, DON"T YOU DARE CALL HERE!" Blair's radiant smile lit his features as Jim groaned.  
  
"Captain!" Jim protested as Blair thanked him.  
  
"OUT!" the Captain roared.  
  
Simon definitely did not like the sheet of ice that appeared suddenly behind his best detective's eyes. Deep down he felt a twinge of compassion for what Blair was going to be facing that night.  
  
"Sir." Jim clipped.  
  
"Sandburg!" Simon snapped as Blair made to dodge around Jim's immovable form. He looked back, curiously.  
  
"Get that phone number out of your cousin's hands!"  
  
"Yes, sir." Blair responded, then grinned and dove under his rigid partner's arm.  
  
Simon started to shake his head, glad to see some of the old Sandburg enthusiasm slipping back into the young man. The past year had been hard, not only on Sandburg and Ellison, but on them all. He noticed a disapproving Jim still standing in his doorway.  
  
"What?" he asked, brusquely.  
  
"You know what." Jim said tersely. "Sandburg can't even leave the damn loft without getting into some sort of trouble. Now you're giving him permission to go into Canada. What the hell am I supposed to do if something happens to him?"  
  
"Jim, aren't you overreacting a little here?"  
  
"Simon, this is Sandburg we're talking about. He can't even go on a date without getting himself kidnapped and nearly forced to smuggle heroine across the border."  
  
"That was nearly two years ago, Jim. Give him a break. He's doing remarkably well since he got out of the academy and partnered with you full time, now. He needs a little break, and you're stuck with that Martinez case. Besides.I want to know if Sandburgian cousins are for real. I can't picture a younger version of him going to the same university. Seems we would have heard something about it."  
  
"What did he say his name was?"  
  
"Sam." Simon paused, raising an eyebrow. "You better get more details out of him before he leaves.just in case." Jim simply gazed at Simon, then shook his head in disgust. Blair's tendency to be a little vague had struck again.  
  
"And when you do find out, it wouldn't hurt to run it just in case.." Simon whispered smirking at the man, knowing full well that he could hear him. Jim's frown just deepened.  
  
"Go, Ellison. And let me know what you find."  
  
"Yes sir." Jim muttered before straightening and closing the door behind him.  
  
Wednesday Morning, Cascade Air Harbor.  
  
The morning air felt pleasant and cool, yet hinted at another hot day as Jim parked the truck dockside. Neither he nor the man next to him had slept much the previous night. Jim still didn't like the idea of Blair going off alone and Sandburg had promptly gotten mad at him for it. The tension in the truck needed a chain saw to cut through it. Ellison had developed a case of lockjaw and Sandburg had simply slammed shut. Still he had driven him to the wharf where an island floatplane charter service had its moorings. Already a few people were arriving for the first flight of the morning.  
  
Outside, seagulls wheeled and cried, and a myriad of creaks and clangs mingled with the gentle slapping of water against planes and ships, pilings and rocks. Jim had had to dial his sense of smell nearly off, as the combination of diesel, fuel and decaying creosote pilings threatened to add to the tension headache he already sported. It was not looking to be a good week. As he was grinding away on his back molars, trying to figure out how to break this latest impasse, the door popped open and he looked at Blair.  
  
"Time for me to go, Jim." Blair said quietly, climbing out of the truck and dragging his backpack with him. He carefully shut the pick-up door and retrieved his packed duffel from the truck bed. Drawing in air, Jim pulled on his door handle and climbed out also. Blair said nothing as he led the way towards the office, where he needed to get his tickets before boarding. Jim, like the grim reaper, trailing behind him. Clearing that hurdle both men stood inside the office complex waiting for the boarding call. Blair finally broke the silence as he reached inside the pocket of a dark blue plaid shirt he'd worn over a black T-shirt.  
  
"Here," he said, handing a neatly folded sheet of paper to the older man. Jim just looked at him, his face betraying nothing. He looked like he was carved out of granite. "Here!" Blair insisted. Jim's head tipped ever so slightly, one corner of his mouth starting the downward course into a frown.  
  
"Fine." Blair said, and started to put it away. It abruptly disappeared from his fingertips. He looked at Jim, who again fixed him with the patented Ellison glare.  
  
"What's this?" he asked, holding it up.  
  
"The information you need to run Sam through the computers at work." Blair replied. Sandburg was rewarded with a single blink of surprise out of the older man before Jim recovered his stoic expression. "It's also the registry number of the Sundogs, that's the name of Sam's boat. Good luck in finding anything. Sam's just an average, well maybe a little above average, human being. "  
  
"Are you doing this on purpose?" Jim asked.  
  
"Hey, knock yourself out. I don't care what you do with the information. Sam isn't a criminal."  
  
"Sandburg."Jim started to growl.  
  
"Jim." Blair growled back, fixing him with his own deep blue eyes. "I'm going to be fine! I've sailed the Sundogs before. I'll be home by Sunday. Don't go getting all worried. You have the trial to think about and both Simon and Megan will be around if you should have any problems with your senses. And besides." Blair patted his left hip.  
  
"I recharged the batteries on the cell phone last night. I'll call you as soon as we land in Kitimat. If I can't reach you I'll know you're on the stand and can't answer."  
  
"You better damn well." Jim started. Blair smiled slightly.  
  
"Every day, Jim. I'll keep you posted on our whereabouts, when we're getting in and where to pick us up at when we get here. I'll be back before you know it!" Jim only dropped his head slightly, his lips pursed in disapproval.  
  
"I still don't like it. Why don't you let Simon pull the necessary strings to at least let you take your weapon?" Blair chuckled at his partner.  
  
"I hate having to carry that damn thing as it is Jim! I'm glad I get to leave it at home. I won't need it anyway. I'm not even gonna be near a city until we approach Vancouver and Victoria."  
  
"There's always piracy." Jim growled, knowing Blair was right and not liking it.  
  
"And I don't have the time. Sam needs to claim the slip space by Sunday. The paperwork alone on getting permission for a foreign officer to carry is already bad enough. I hate to hear about what Megan had to go through."  
  
"True." Jim grumbled. A loudspeaker crackled into use, causing a wince from the detective, who hastily dialed down his hearing. A voice announced that Flight 18 was now boarding. Blair grinned at Jim, then reached up and gently patted him on the shoulder.  
  
"That's it man. Don't worry. I'll call you about 10:00, okay? I should be there by 9:00."  
  
"All right." Jim sighed. Then his gaze abruptly softened as he looked down at Blair. "Just don't go doing anything stupid, Chief. It's not going to be too easy for me to get away this time if something should happen," he said quietly. Blair smiled at him, seeing the change in his face.  
  
"It'll be fine! I gotta go." He made to turn away, then felt Jim's hand on the back of his neck, gripping gently before cuffing the back of his head. He looked back at him, realizing it had been one of the first genuine gestures of affection from Jim since their argument the previous evening. His smile beamed at him, as he lifted a hand and waved back.  
  
"I'll have the game on for ya when you get back." Jim said watching him disappear down the dock towards the plane.  
  
"You do that. And I'll miss you too, buddy." Blair's voice reached his ears as he disappeared from view. Jim smirked ruefully, shaking his head, no longer wondering how Sandburg could read him so easily.  
  
Minutes later, standing by his truck, Jim watched as the floatplane taxied into the main part of the channel. He stood there long after the plane had disappeared into the crystal blue skies. He remained until he could no longer hear the drone of the seaplane's engines.  
  
Wednesday Morning, Kitimat, BC, Canada.  
  
Eric Olssen wasn't exactly as Blair had envisioned him. The jeans threw him off. Looking down at his own recently new pair, he glanced up at the single person waiting for him midway down the dock. He was tall, maybe two inches shorter than Jim, with nearly black close-cropped hair, a nose that sported the classic bump signaling a breakage at some time in his life and twinkling brown eyes. He stood with his hands clasped in front of him, in the sunlight, in a very remote city halfway between Washington and Alaska. He had on the light blue uniform shirt of a Mountie with his nametag, and the yellow and black epaulet bars announcing his rank as a Corporal in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. He also had on jeans and cowboy boots. Blair shook his head, smiling mockingly at himself and wondering why he had envisioned red, as he and another gentleman disembarked from the float plane.  
  
"Detective Sandburg?" he asked, glancing briefly at the other gentleman.  
  
"That'd be me." Blair replied, toying with the short hair at the back of his head, amused that he'd been mistaken for a much younger person again. He held out a hand to the Mountie, who looked a little startled, then had the grace to blush.  
  
"Sorry 'bout that, Detective." Olssen replied shaking his hand. Blair chuckled, then bent to gather his duffel. He waved a hand at Olssen.  
  
"Please, Corporal! I'm not on a case and I'm not in the office, call me Blair."  
  
"Deal, so long as it's Eric," the other responded and smiled. Blair found himself immediately liking the man. They turned and started up the dock as Blair took in the thick green forest and mountains surrounding them. Kitimat was a lonely, remote city.  
  
"So how's Sam this morning?"  
  
"Wanting out, and in a lot of pain. The nurse wants her to stay a few more days and let you sail the boat alone to Cascade, but Miss McClennen isn't having it." Blair chuckled looking at the various vessels moored all along the main stretch of the Kitimat marina. They climbed up the stairs to the main road.  
  
"Sam's more stubborn than most mules I know. She could probably give my partner a run for his money."  
  
"So we've found out." Eric replied, smiling wryly.  
  
"Hey there's the Sundogs, can we go over there first? Let me stow my stuff on board?"  
  
"Sure." The Mountie changed direction as they approached another set of stairs leading down.  
  
"It's still a bit messed up, no one's had a chance to clean it yet." Olssen warned.  
  
Blair nodded, but still blanched a little as he gazed down at the aft cockpit when they approached the vessel in question. Blood had dried on the railings, the starboard stern and in the cockpit itself. Too much. Handprints and splattered drips stood out against the white deck, where they had long turned from red to brown. Blair could see it on the door leading to the galley and salon.  
  
"There's a mess inside too. She barely made it to the radio to call for help before passing out from the blood loss. Lucky thing for her though, she landed on her back, effectively stopping the blood flow."  
  
"What all happened?" Blair asked as he gingerly gained the cockpit. Leaning away from the rolled and strapped mainsail, Olssen followed, fishing out his keys. He unlocked the door before removing the key from his ring and handing it to Blair.  
  
"Four days ago, the RV Denali, based out of Juneau, was anchored out at Pitt Island. Apparently, Miss McClennen had finished up on a rehabilitation project involving sea otters while the other researchers were still working on projects of their own. She says she was sailing from Alaska to Cascade having finished her work and was heading for a new job in Cascade. She thought she'd stop by the research vessel and drop off a large list of personal items for the crew."  
  
"Sam's sailed the Inside Passage before." Blair confirmed his voice sounding grim as he took in the darkened bloodstains on the carpeting inside the salon. He was very glad Jim wasn't there to smell it, as even he could just barely make out a coppery tang inside the cabin. He set his duffel and backpack on the table and looked around.  
  
"She's replaced all the portals." he murmured, looking around the very familiar vessel. It's deep blue, silver, and white trim bright in the sunlight coming through new looking chrome portals. The sloop bringing back to Blair fond and somewhat sad memories.  
  
"It's a fine rig. I sailed her back to port coming back from the island." Olssen said with a tinge of affection in his voice.  
  
"I see the Sundogs has struck again!" Blair said, glancing at the Mountie.  
  
"She can fly! I'll give her that much."  
  
"She can.so tell me the rest." Blair said, looking around at Sam's personal effects. She still kept the vee berth as her main room.  
  
"She doesn't really know what happened. She says she had gotten on board her dinghy and had just gained the Sundogs when the Denali suddenly blew up. Apparently they had tied her to the bigger vessel by a cable, far enough away so that she wasn't affected by the whirlpool when Denali went down. However as her back was to the ship, she didn't see what happened and the cable caught her across the shoulders, knocking her out of the dinghy. She managed to climb on board the Sundogs, losing the dinghy, and made it to the radio to call for help before passing out. She says she saw the ship go down and thinks it only took minutes. All we found out there was a lot of debris."  
  
"How many people on board?" Blair asked softly spying a photo of himself and Sam on their graduation day. He felt his mouth go dry as he took in the long, curly dark hair and black graduation gown. It seemed like an entirely different person smiled back at him.  
  
"Seven. The Captain, the Cook, and five researchers. Two were from Juneau and three from Vancouver. I need to warn you, Blair." Olssen said gently. "Sam's still not reacted to it yet. She seems to have shut down a little. She seems shocky."  
  
"She will." Blair nodded, seeing the questions still lurking in the Mountie's eyes.  
  
"Sam's parent's and her sister were killed when she was 12. She bottles things up until the bottle breaks. My Mom took her in until we started college together. We both know what to look for."  
  
"Now that's rough." Olssen commented.  
  
"That's how Sam ended up with the Sundogs. It was her dad's. She refused to give it up."  
  
"I wondered about that."  
  
"Any ideas on why the Research ship blew up?"  
  
"Not yet," Olssen responded. "Lab results have barely trickled back in. The only thing we know for sure is that the cable that hit Miss McClennen had been cut. It was still attached to the boat when we got there and you could see the cut marks in the frayed end. She was lucky it didn't take her head off. Whipped her like a cat-o-nine instead."  
  
"Ouch." Blair winced.  
  
"Plus we're still wondering just how and why all this happened. I've got to tell you too, Blair. For all intents and purposes, Miss McClennen is our only lead." Blair looked at the Mountie.  
  
"And your only suspect." Blair said for him.  
  
"Yeah.my gut tells me she's a victim, but there are too many unanswered questions at the moment and we've found nothing of a criminal nature in her background checks. She let us search the Sundogs and she even let us fingerprint her. She doesn't appear to be hiding anything."  
  
"But?" Blair asked. Olssen smirk slightly.  
  
"It is all a little too vague." Blair nodded, looking thoughtful. He studied the familiar layout of the boat a moment, then smiled up at the Mountie.  
  
"Let me see what I can come up with."  
  
"That would be appreciated." Olssen smiled back, then turned and climbed back up into the cockpit.  
  
"Would it be asking too much for me to see the reports on this, as a, let's say, professional courtesy?" Blair asked, following the man.  
  
"Don't see why not." Olssen pondered, as Blair turned and locked the cabin door behind him.  
  
"Want to do that now or after seeing your cousin?"  
  
"Better do it now.before she sees me." Blair smiled a mysterious smile, catching a raised eyebrow from the Mountie.  
  
"I haven't seen her in five years.she is not going to recognize me." Blair said with emphasis. "Did you notice that photo in there of the two graduates?" he remarked as he followed Olssen back onto the dock.  
  
"Yeah," Olssen looked at Blair curiously.  
  
"The guy in the photo with the hair, is me." He hiked his eyebrows at him and began heading for the main road. Olssen paused, looking at the figure moving away from him, then he began to chuckle.  
  
"Before you leave, Blair, I want to hear this story, how the hell did you get to detective rank?"  
  
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Blair chuckled right back. "I'm a bit older than I look."  
  
"Sorta like Miss McClennen?" Olssen said  
  
"Oh yeah."  
  
"What was your major?" Olssen asked following Blair up the stairs.  
  
"Anthropology." Blair responded and completely missed the look of genuine surprise that came over Eric Olssen's features.  
  
"Anthro." he started then shook his head, realizing just how much he had underestimated the smaller man. He chuckled again. "Satisfy a news- hungry cop's curiosity, Sandburg! I have got to hear this story."  
  
  
  
The report didn't yield much to Blair's eyes. He read it through again, trying to find some piece behind the mystery of why a ship would just suddenly explode for no reason, taking seven people to their watery graves. He shook his head, it made no sense to him, but then the unnatural deaths of anyone never made sense to him, even after four years of working with Major Crime. He sighed and closed the file, having committed the names of the seven to his memory. Not surprisingly he wished his partner could have been there. Maybe he could have seen, or smelled something with his extraordinary senses on the pieces of debris that had been brought in from the blast site. Even now efforts were underway to get to the main bulk of wreckage, unfortunately lying rather deep in the mouth of the bay where the Denali had gone down.  
  
"Doesn't make sense does it?" he commented as he handed the file back to Olssen, rubbing at the back of his head, fingering the short tight curls back there.  
  
"Not a whole lot." He gazed at Sandburg, a slow smile beginning to creep onto his face. "So tell me your story, Blair." Blair's infectious chuckle bubbled out.  
  
"You are starved for news, aren't you?"  
  
"Well other than the Denali blowing up, the biggest highlight of my day is retrieving stolen axes that locals 'borrow' from each other."  
  
"Wish my case load could be so light!" Blair joked. He shrugged. "Not much to tell really, I came on deck as an observer studying for my thesis on uh, Closed Societies, and four years later, they gave me a shield. I bet the closed societies up here around the different Indian clans can get pretty intense, would make a wonderful research opportunity." he began to wax eloquent.  
  
"Nothing could be that simple!" Olssen shot back, a knowing smile on his face. Blair nodded, smirking.  
  
"Nooo, not that simple at all, but if I tell you."  
  
"You'd have to kill me! Come on Sandburg, I've heard that line before!"  
  
"Oh I wouldn't kill you." Blair replied blandly, his hand reaching up and hitting a 6'2" mark. "My partner would kill you. Jim can get pretty intense, makes an Army Drill Sergeant look like a kitten, and considering he was a Ranger." Blair just shrugged and couldn't keep the fondness out of his expression. Olssen was about to ask another question when the RCMP Detachment phone rang.  
  
"Hold that thought, Sandburg." The Mountie replied snagging the phone.  
  
"RCMP Kitimat, this is Ols." he started, then stopped, looking at Blair. "She did?" At about that time, Blair heard footsteps on the porch leading to the door. "Yeah he's here." Blair's finger flew to his lips, nodding at the door as he began to back up past it. Olssen frowned a little, watching him. "I'll get the keys for her; thanks, Trace. I think I hear her now." He abruptly hung up.  
  
"You're cousin made a break for it." he barely managed to say before the Detachment door opened.  
  
Olssen, already perched on the edge of his desk, folded his arms and regarded the person who had come in.  
  
"Miss McClennen?" he asked, studiously ignoring a silent Sandburg grinning behind the door.  
  
"Corporal." A soft voice flatly responded. The family resemblance held true. The girl before him was a full 5 inches shorter than Sandburg, and had the curly hair to match, only it was nearly to her waist, honey blonde in color, and loose. She seemed to vibrate, either from trying to restrain pent up energy or from weakness and exhaustion, Olssen couldn't tell which. It could have been both. She fixed Olssen with a pair of hazel eyes that he swore could spin like a kaleidoscope. "That nurse." she said in a low voice indicating a healthy dose of dislike. "Told me you have the keys to my boat." She swung the door shut behind her. Olssen looked ceilingward, thoughtfully scratching under his chin.  
  
"Keys, boat keys." His voice trailed off. "I haven't got them," he said, looking back at the girl. She stared back at him, blank faced.  
  
"You haven't what?" she asked. Olssen smiled apologetically, watching Blair fish them up out of jeans pocket.  
  
"I haven't got your keys."  
  
"Excuse me, Corporal, I'm not in the mood to joke. I have to get my boat restocked before I leave and I have to get it out of here. If you haven't got the keys, who does?" she demanded.  
  
"I do." Another voice said from behind her, an arm appearing in her vision to dangle a set of keys before her eyes. She made to snatch the keys out of the hand but they disappeared back into a fist, which vanished just as quickly. The girl turned around fixing the person behind her with a look that could kill. He was a little taller than herself, with short dark curly hair and eyes the blue of the ocean.  
  
"Whatever kind of game you're playing." she started to say, then froze.  
  
Olssen slid his hand over his mouth, trying to hide the smile as Blair, completely devoid of expression looked at his shorter cousin.  
  
There was an audible click as Sam's mouth shut.  
  
"Blair?" she asked, staring at him as if he was some sort of creature from another planet. He got an almost perverse thrill out of the reactions to his dramatically shorter hairstyle. Particularly from the people who had known him from before. Samantha McClennen's head tipped slightly left, bewilderment filling her multicolored eyes as she stared at him. Sandburg really wanted to laugh outright as her eyes dropped down to his feet then back up again.  
  
"Blair Sandburg?" she whispered, blinking in disbelief.  
  
"Boo!" he said suddenly, making her head jerk back. Then he jangled the keys in front of her. "You want these?" he asked. Sam blinked, speechless, then began to reach for them. Blair chuckled mischievously.  
  
"Too bad," he said and shoved them back into his jeans pocket. "And don't even think about diving after them." he warned, holding up a finger. Sam stared a moment longer, and he could see anger beginning to rise behind her large eyes.  
  
"C'mon Sammy! " he cajoled, smiling at her. "I don't look that bad!"  
  
"You look." she started to exclaim, then stopped and shook her head, studying him carefully. "You look.respectable!"  
  
Olssen lost his battle with his laughter. Blair rolled his eyes, shaking his own head.  
  
"That hurts, Sam, that really hurts!"  
  
"When did you cut your hair?" she said her voice plaintive. "And why?"  
  
"Trust me when I tell you it's a long story Sam. We have plenty of time to discuss it once we get underway. In the meantime, I'm sure Corporal Olssen here has a few things we need to clear up and I want to get a run-down from the nurse on your injuries. You don't look so good." Blair studied her pale chiseled features. There was a single butterfly bandage up near the hairline on the left side of her face, and he could see a myriad of scratches down that side of her face and neck. She was wearing an oversized denim shirt, under which his observant eyes could see padding from bandages. Combined with the dark smudges of fatigue under her eyes, he could see she was standing up out of pure stubbornness.  
  
Olssen watched curiously as Sandburg's voice dropped lower. He reached up to touch her face, smiling fondly.  
  
"I'd give you a hug, but I would probably get decked." he murmured, "But what the hell, you only live once." Very gingerly Blair wrapped his arms around her, being careful to avoid her upper back and shoulders. Sam returned the hug, finally breaking out with a smile. He could feel the tension coursing through her as she hugged him back. For the briefest second she seemed hesitant then her embrace grew tighter. She buried her face in his shoulder.  
  
"It's been too long, Sam!" he murmured into her hair. She softly snorted, grasping two fistfuls of his shirt.  
  
"Blair, you don't know how glad I am to see you." she whispered, her voice betraying a deep pool of emotions. He could feel her shaking.  
  
"C'mon you." he said, taking charge. "You need to sit down." He glanced up at Olssen, as he gathered Sam's arms in his and turned her around. Olssen got off his desk, snagged at a chair nearby and spun it around as Blair steered her towards it. The Mountie smiled ruefully. Nobody in the four days she had been in Kitimat had been able to get Sam McClennen to cooperate so easily, short of threatening her with arrest. Sandburg continued to murmur gently to the girl, helping her to sit, his voice almost hypnotic. That's what it was, Olssen grinned. It was the voice. Blair kept a hand on the only part of her shoulder that didn't have any padding.  
  
"Sammy, I need to know a few things before we leave. Then I need to know what you need to get on the boat."  
  
"Need to refill the water tank, for sure." She looked up at Blair surprising Olssen by the softness now in her eyes. "We should probably top off the fuel tanks too." She looked over at the Mountie for confirmation.  
  
"Wouldn't be a bad idea." he said, "And definitely your water. We had to use a lot of it to get you fixed up. You might want to let us give you some cleaning agents, for the salon. The carpet may be ruined." He watched Sam as she frowned in puzzlement then her face cleared as she remembered why.  
  
"Oh yeah." she breathed looking up at Blair. He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.  
  
"We'll take care of it. Tell me where we're supposed to take the boat, which Marina?"  
  
"Bayshore Marina. Slip 33. It has to be there by Monday."  
  
"We'll get it there. Don't worry. It'll be okay."  
  
"Corporal? Has anyone found the dinghy?" she asked. Olssen shook his head, having heard that question for the hundredth time.  
  
"It's either half way on it's way to Alaska, or got sucked into the whirlpool when Denali went down. I'm sorry, Miss McClennen, it looks as if that's gonna be a write off." She shook her head heaving a sigh.  
  
"I'm sure we can pick up another one in Cascade," Blair said. "Corporal? Do you mind if I speak with her alone for a few minutes?"  
  
"Not a problem, let me go get that cleaning stuff and try and muffle Tracy, I'm sure she's fit to blow by now."  
  
"She the nurse?" Blair asked.  
  
"More like a dictator." Sam muttered. Olssen grinned.  
  
"That's because you are a lousy patient."  
  
"I'll second that," Blair piped up. Sam glared at him.  
  
"You haven't met her." she replied.  
  
"Sam, you're a notoriously bad patient."  
  
"As compared to you?" she shot back. "You're the only person I know on a first name basis with the emergency room staff at Cascade Gen."  
  
"My home away from home!" Blair agreed cheerfully. Olssen shook his head.  
  
"Don't go running off. There's a few release forms I need you to fill out," he said heading for the door. Sam was about to say something when Blair cut her off.  
  
"We'll be here."  
  
"And I still want to hear your story, Sandburg." Olssen grinned and left them alone.  
  
"Story?" Sam asked looking at Blair as he found another chair and pulled it up close to her. "Which story?"  
  
"Which one would interest a Mountie?" Blair replied, deliberately not answering her. He dropped down in the chair and looked at her steadily for a moment. Sam tried to shrug, and winced.  
  
"Okay Sam, what aren't you telling him?"  
  
"What?" she asked, blinking, pokerfaced.  
  
"What happened out there, Sam? What aren't you telling Olssen? He suspects something." he trailed off watching her.  
  
"Like what?" she asked. "All I remember was climbing on Sundogs, when I heard this explosion, sounded like it was deep. I heard something metallic snap, and as I stood up to look around, the cable whipped me across my shoulders. I don't remember much afterwards, just trying to climb back on board the boat, getting to the radio inside. Then seeing the Denali's bow." She stopped, the memory drifting before her eyes.  
  
"There was smoke pouring out of her, Blair. The entire bow lifted out of the water and she sank.I think it took less than 30 seconds and she was gone. Dave, Mark, Steve." she looked at Blair. "They were all on board." she whispered, struggling suddenly to keep her composure. Blair patted her knee.  
  
"Why didn't you use the radio at the wheel?" he asked softly. "It was right there."  
  
"I don't know, Blair! For cryin' out loud, the Denali had just blown up!"  
  
"I know, I know, just think back a minute, think about what was happening."  
  
"Blair, stop with the psychobabble. I told you. All I remember was seeing blood pouring down my arms and it was stinging like hell from the seawater. I got onto the boat, got to the radio in the cabin, and called the Coast Guard. I don't remember anything else until I woke up in Little Hitler's clinic." She began to get agitated.  
  
"Okay, okay, okay. Just relax." He held his hands out, placatingly.  
  
"What's with the third degree anyway? You sound like Olssen, although he has been really cool about everything." She quietly admitted.  
  
"He seems to be a nice guy. And he was nice enough to call me for you last night. He didn't have to do that you know."  
  
"Yeah I know." She sighed and went to pull her long hair out of her eyes. She stopped short, wincing at the wounds stopping her. She definitely could not raise her arms above her shoulders. "Oh Blair, " she softly moaned, lowering her head. "It's been a rough few weeks. Trying to get everything squared away on this project, getting things transferred from Juneau to Cascade, trying to get the Sundogs ready for this trip, then the Denali." She looked away from his watching eyes. "The Denali blows up, all the fellas were on board, then I wake up here, to question after question after question. And all I can think is I have to get out of here. I have to get that slip space in Cascade and then it hits me that seven people I know are."  
  
"They're dead, Sam. There's nothing you can do to bring them back."  
  
"There wasn't a thing I could do to even stop it, Blair..." She looked at him again, her hazel eyes dark, foreboding. "I haven't felt this helpless since." Blair shook his head, squeezing her knee under his hand.  
  
"Don't go there, Sam. That was 16 years ago. You couldn't do anything about Tab either. You were not to blame and you weren't at fault. You aren't here, either." he said, firmly. Sam stared at him, her hand reaching up to touch his face. He could see untapped sorrow lurking behind her eyes. Finally she threaded her fingers into his hair, her gaze shifting to his short curls, then she smiled lopsidedly.  
  
"When did you cut your hair?" she asked. Blair smiled gently as she fingered the curls a moment then dropped her hand.  
  
"Months ago." he replied. She looked back at his face, studying the familiar features. Something unspoken passed between them, a familiar understanding.  
  
"It looks good," she murmured. "Just caught me by surprise. You look different." She shook her head. "You act different."  
  
"It's been five years, girl. Things change." he said. She nodded, then asked him the one question he had hoped like anything to avoid.  
  
"Still chasing your diss on Sentinel's?"  
  
It was kind of hard to keep that kind of subject as tightly under wraps as he had been able to do with the general public and most of his colleagues at Cascade PD and Rainier University. Until a few months ago, that is. But to keep it from your cousin, who happened to be going to the same university and with whom he frequently roomed with on a 27' sailboat, it was downright impossible. She had known all along what he was pursuing, just as he had known she was deep into Marine Biology with an emphasis on sea mammals. Some things just couldn't be hidden. However, Sam had no idea what had gone on in his life as she pursued her major to California, then to Alaska. She still didn't know what had occurred to his academic life and career. She didn't know he was a Detective in the Major Crime unit. And she didn't know a thing about Jim Ellison. Yet Sam did know a thing or two about how Blair ticked, and it took his formidable wits to keep one step ahead of her.  
  
"Chasing it in more ways than one." he said smiling mysteriously. She echoed his smile.  
  
"It's been a few years since we graduated, you should be close to getting that Ph.D., Blair." She snorted. "You should be close to getting several by now, you are the multitasking king."  
  
"Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades." Blair grinned. "My research is going in directions I never expected it to go, but it's still ongoing." It was, after all, the truth.  
  
Sam studied him a moment, sensing more than he was giving.  
  
"Did you ever find anyone with all five senses working overtime?" she asked. Blair's head did a slight bob and weave as he scrambled for an answer.  
  
"Let me just say, I've found a few promising subjects." At that Sam's eye's took on an interested glitter.  
  
"No kidding? Not just onesies and twosies?"  
  
"It's sort of a confidential thing Sam. You know, like a doctor/client thing." Sam smirked at him.  
  
"You always were infatuated with Burton's idea.I'd like to hear what you've come up with."  
  
"Maybe I'll tell you, once we get underway. I have to get back into Cascade by Sunday night, and you look like you're going to pass out," he said, shifting gears quickly. He stood up.  
  
"Here's what I want to do. Let's take you to the boat. I know you've never been able to sleep well without water being around. Why don't you just take it easy, I'll get the Sundogs prepped, handle the nurse for you, and let Olssen drop the paperwork off for us to sign? Just let me take care of stuff and you rest? Deal?"  
  
Sam stared at him for a moment. Blair acted different, more confident then she remembered him. More.controlled. Blair had been notorious for his inexhaustible supply of energy, and that being nearly unrestrained. Now it was channeled, focused, directed. It was flat out weird. Out of several 'child prodigy' students attending Rainier, Blair was acknowledged the most brilliant, and the most unorthodox, of the under 17's. Despite his talent for dodging rules and regulations, his impromptu upbringing, and knack for locating trouble. It had taken everything in Samantha McClennen's power to keep up with him during those somewhat wild years. Yet through all the turbulence, he had been her anchor. He had been there after the loss of her family. He had spent more time in dealing with the tragedy than Naomi had, mostly because she had her own grief to deal with. Yet it had been Blair's understanding of people, even at that young an age, that had grounded and aided a grieving teenage girl. With the events surrounding the Denali, she had known exactly who to call, especially as she needed something more out of him.  
  
"Deal." she said softly and heaved a long held relieved sigh, smiling fondly at him. He smiled, satisfied, and stood up, offering her an arm.  
  
He was relieved to hear that sigh. Sam's time at Rainier had been anything but joyful, and she had had to assume responsibilities far too heavy for such very young shoulders. She had had to learn very quickly, at great cost, how to fend for herself and it had created an independent, driven, individual who buried her pains and sorrows in study and activity. Just simply agreeing to let someone else handle her problems was a struggle he knew he had to face and he was very glad she had let him 'take over' without too much of a fight. Blair smiled ruefully as he guided Sam towards her boat. Jim would've been proud. Just thinking of his partner suddenly reminded him of the time.  
  
"Go on in and lie down." Blair said, as he fished the keys out of his jeans and unlocked the cabin door. "I've got to make a quick phone call and then I'll take the boat over to get her refueled."  
  
"All right." She agreed as she glanced around at the blood on the deck. Blair opened the door for her and she paused, smiling gently.  
  
"Thanks again, Blair." she said. He nodded and shooed her down the steps. Minutes later he was standing at the end of the pier, poking numbers into his cell phone.  
  
Sam stood just at the end of the short, folding ladder inside the cabin and listened carefully to Blair's footsteps as they faded away from the boat. She stared numbly at the blotches and stains on the carpet covering the hatch leading to a storage compartment and to the navigation station to her right. She could see where the dried blood had been scraped off the hatch latches as Olssen had looked through the boat to satisfy any suspicions he had had of her. She heaved a sigh, trying again to pull her hair out of her eyes, but still unable to get her arms up. Listening again, she couldn't hear Blair. Carefully she raised the steps up high enough, wincing at the effort until the hatch door was clear. Dropping to her knees, she wrinkled her nose at the smell of her own blood and fumbled with the latches, sliding them back with an audible 'snick', then raised the hatch. Another short set of steps led into the cramped compartment. Big enough for one person to get down inside, turn around and get out if need be. It was also where she kept a few cleaning supplies and extra bottles of distilled water, as she refused to drink what came out of the water tank.  
  
Painfully she lowered her head into the hold, looking down as an automatic light switched on. Only she knew that she kept a .22 rifle strapped to the ceiling by Velcro. Something a Canadian Mountie would have confiscated in a heartbeat. However, Sam knew it had been missing for several days now. Still, she reached back and felt for where the rifle had once lodged, and to her relief felt a strange object still strapped securely in place. For a few seconds Sam wilted with relief, hanging limply over the hatch to the hold. Olssen hadn't found it. He didn't think to check the ceiling. Feeling her body threatening to fall asleep in place, Sam struggled to get back up, pulling the object loose. She set the hatch back down, refastened the latches and dropped the cabin steps back into place. She gazed a moment at the four foot long object. Turning, she headed into the vee berth and slid it under her mattress. Nothing was getting her off her boat for a good while, now. Heaving another sigh, she sat down and stared at the wall opposite, her mind racing.  
  
Her rifle was missing. She hadn't lost the dinghy trying to get back on board the Sundogs, she had swam from the Denali to the sailboat because someone else had 'borrowed' her dinghy. She had been angry enough to swim it. As she crawled onto the Sundogs, then the Denali exploded, the cable lashing her shoulders and again knocking her into the water. During that second time in, she had floundered, seeing the Denali listing hard to port, debris and such raining down around her from the force of the explosion. One such item landing near her. The same she had hidden in the storage compartment after radioing the Coast Guard, from inside the cabin. She lowered her head to her hands, feeling the shakes come over her again.  
  
She hated lying to Blair, but couldn't see any other way around it. She hated even more what she was about to do to him.  
  
  
  
Cascade Courthouse, Wednesday Morning.  
  
Jim leaned his head back against the wall, carefully toying with the "dials" in his head, monitoring his senses. Uncomfortable in his two piece business suit, he was made even more so by the cacophony of sounds assaulting his ears in the hallway outside the courtroom where the Martinez case was underway. Add the beginnings of a headache caused by the stress of the past twenty-four hours, and you had a surly Ellison on your hands. Megan had found out, and kept a healthy distance, though she maintained one eye on him, to his never ending annoyance, knowing that Blair was very far away.  
  
His chiseled, handsome features seemed set in stone as he kept his eyes shut and forced himself to relax, his hands hanging limply across his legs. He pulled out every trick in the book that Sandburg had taught him in an effort to stay calm. Yet he couldn't rid himself of the feeling something wasn't right. Had he really come to rely on Blair being around him that much? He'd been fine while Blair attended the academy. Why now?  
  
All morning, until he had to go to the courthouse, he had sat at his desk, glaring death at the computer screen, and toyed with the paper that Blair had given him before boarding the plane. Yet this time he couldn't bring himself to run his cousin's name through the criminal database. It had boiled down to a simple matter of trust. Something he and Blair had been dealing with long and hard for nearly a year, now.  
  
That didn't mean he couldn't look elsewhere. Searching the news sites on the Internet he had found the article on the RV Denali blowing up mysteriously off an island west of the Queen Charlotte Islands just south of the Alaskan Panhandle. His search yielded the names of the missing crew and researchers. Among whom a Sam McClennen was not listed. That piqued his curiosity until he realized Blair's cousin was on his own boat. Still he had some names he could run, if only to ease his suspicions, but by the time he had to leave for the courthouse, the computer hadn't found anything. Maybe it was just the idea of Blair out for a four-day cruise without him? Getting some time to just play while he was chained to a trial? He sighed. That wasn't it, he had that uncomfortable itch between his shoulders. Blair, no doubt, would have called it his sixth sense; which for him would be anything but ordinary. He didn't want to go there. He preferred to think of it as instinct. As he sat there, stewing, his cell phone suddenly went off. Jim answered it before the second ring could finish.  
  
"Ellison," he growled.  
  
"Hey Jim," Blair's voice crackled back, sounding a long way off. Jim nearly melted into the floor with relief.  
  
"You're twenty minutes late, Sandburg." Jim replied, opening his eyes and glancing at Connor.  
  
"I got a little tied up. And no it's not literally. Just getting some details straightened around. Got your notepad handy?"  
  
"Yup." Ellison responded reaching inside his suit coat, slipping a small spiral bound notebook into his fingers. A pen shortly followed.  
  
"Bayshore Marina, slip 33. We should have the Sundogs in by Sunday afternoon. As we get closer I'll let you know around what time to meet us."  
  
"How's your cousin?" Jim asked, flipping the little book open and writing.  
  
"Sam? A mess. Sounds like you're stuck out in the hall in the courthouse."  
  
"That I am. They find out anything about why the ship blew up?"  
  
"Not yet. Wish you or Joel could see some of the debris they brought in. I just know that with your senses you'd be able pick up something. I can't help but feel like either C4 or Semtex was used. Sam said the explosion sounded deep. And judging from how fast the ship went down, there must have been a considerable amount of explosives involved. A simple engine room explosion wouldn't have sent it down so quickly. The crew didn't even have time to respond."  
  
"You've been hanging around Joel too much, Chief." Jim chuckled, amused at Blair's assessment, yet knowing Blair could be right. "Any idea where you two are gonna stop for the night?"  
  
"Haven't had the chance to go over the charts yet, Jim. I was going over the file with Corporal Olssen, he let me read it. I can call you tonight and let you know. If we come straight down the Inside Passage we'll probably stay at one of the Marine Parks along the way. If we have a good wind, we should get 120 miles in 8 hours, maybe more. Depends on how long either one of us feels like sailing the boat."  
  
"Sandburg, don't get any ideas about going off on a sightseeing cruise." Jim growled. Blair chuckled.  
  
"Would I do that?"  
  
"Or stopping along the way to do some fishing."  
  
"You're taking all the fun out of it, man!"  
  
"You're supposed to be getting the boat here in a hurry, remember?"  
  
"Do I need to be reminded?"  
  
"Frequently."  
  
"I suppose whale watching is out of the question, too?"  
  
"I have paper work waiting for you, Sandburg."  
  
"I hear The Aleutian Islands are beautiful this time of year." Blair replied, sounding wistful. Jim closed his eyes. Blair was sounding way too happy. He really couldn't blame the guy. It was the first time he'd been out of Cascade since graduating from the academy several months ago. Jim sighed. It was the first time Sandburg had been out of Cascade since throwing away his academic career to save him. A soft smile stole over his features.  
  
"Call me back tonight, Blair," he said quietly. "Let me know where you stop for the night. Try not to enjoy yourself too much." The chuckle echoed back in his ear.  
  
"Mighty hard when you're sailing the Sundogs, man!" Jim abruptly frowned, his curiosity piqued again.  
  
"Sundogs? What kind of name is that?"  
  
"Sundogs? It's an Indian term. Know how you sometimes see the two rainbows on opposite sides of the sun, when the light is shining through the cirrus clouds just right?"  
  
"Yeah?" Jim questioned, trying to picture the last time he had seen such a thing.  
  
"Uncle Alan christened the boat Sundogs after the twins."  
  
"Twins, Chief?" Jim's frown deepened. "You're losing me."  
  
"Sam was a twin. The only set ever born in the Sandburg and McClennen families."  
  
"Was?" Jim asked. Blair paused.  
  
"Sam's twin is dead, died fourteen years ago." That brought Jim up short.  
  
"And now this?" Jim asked, thinking of the Denali.  
  
"Yeah." Blair replied. "Anyway, that's were the Sundogs came from. Uncle Alan, he was an archeologist, dragged Aunt Ruth and the twins everywhere! Mom and I frequently crossed paths with them. Sometimes even joined them."  
  
"Another early influence on young Sandburg's life, I take it?" Jim asked, his mind spinning.  
  
"You could say that."  
  
"So what did the family do with a pair of child geniuses?"  
  
"Home schooled, man!" Blair replied, mirth in his voice. "They stuffed us with studies. Lot's of schoolwork. Aunt Ruth had been a teacher. Kept us in line. Of course, we had our own ways of getting into the most interesting kinds of trouble. I should tell you someday about finding the Patagonian Anteater in Argentina the summer I found Burton's book."  
  
Jim shuddered.  
  
"Maybe later, Chief. I can't take the adventures of one Sandburg, much less two Or even three, now that I think about it." Twins? In Blair's family tree? It was too scary think about. Yet one was dead? Jim began to wonder.  
  
"Oh, hey, I see Olssen heading this way. I'll call you later tonight okay?"  
  
"You'd better." Jim warned.  
  
"Yes, Mother." Blair joked. "Catch ya later, man!"  
  
Reluctantly, Jim hung up.  
  
Douglas Channel, North of Hawkesbury Island, Wed. PM.  
  
Sam's back looked like she lost the war with blender. She hadn't gone to sleep when Blair and Eric had returned to the boat. Blair, with Eric on deck, had carefully backed the Sundogs out of her slip under engine power and maneuvered over to a refueling station nearby. It had felt good to be behind the wheel again, feeling the vibrations of the engine under his feet. Hearing the sounds as they bubbled up from beneath the boat. He was definitely looking forward to putting up the sails.  
  
At the station a light blonde woman close to Blair's height joined them. He learned quickly that she was the resident Nurse Practitioner. There was a severity to her eyes that made one think twice before risking anything. She was clearly not pleased with Blair's presence and Sam's sudden arctic front confirmed the bad blood between them.  
  
In the cabin, she had had Sam discreetly lower her shirt to expose the stitches criss-crossing her shoulders. Blair grimaced as the nurse explained the need to keep the area washed with a 10% Iodine solution and to apply antibiotic cream. Though he was needed to sail the boat, Blair was also needed to keep Sam's wounds cleaned. Some areas were evidencing redness. She lectured on the risk of fever, which Sam had been battling, to Blair's consternation, and the need not to strain the area. Several of the cuts were very deep. The obvious muscle aches involved elicited the occasional groan from Sam. Leaving a supply of bandages, prescriptions, and solutions, the Nurse left. In her hand she held a release form absolving herself of any blame from a patient who directly disobeyed her orders. Both Sam and Blair were relieved when she was gone. Eric just watched, amused. Finally the Mountie had secured his necessary forms, and a promise from Sam to remain reachable for further questioning.  
  
He stayed long enough to go over the navigation charts with Blair, pointing out areas to avoid and securing a fairly good idea of their route. Then he asked Blair to keep in touch with him as they sailed. Finally, shortly after noon, Blair eased the Sundogs out of the Marina and pointed her bow towards the open Channel.  
  
Almost as soon as they cleared the jetty protecting the marina Sam, who had been sitting with him in the cockpit, lost the war with fatigue. It didn't take much to convince her to go to bed. She insisted he wake her up before they reached the junctions of Tolmie and Douglas Channels near the little town of Hartley Bay. Blair said he would, and before too long he was alone on deck and reveling in the feel of the boat, the winds, and the water all around him. It was a glorious day to be out sailing.  
  
The rocking of the Sundogs did much to lull the exhausted Samantha closer to sleep. Burrowed under her blankets on her stomach, she wrapped her arms around her pillows and sighed. Her body demanded rest, but her head had other plans.  
  
Their faces kept drifting into view. Especially one man in particular. Somehow Samantha knew he had not gone down with the Denali.  
  
The Pacific Northwest Coast was anything but dull. Words couldn't fully describe the beauty of the coastline and it's thousands of islands between Alaska and Washington State. With the Canadian Coastal mountains providing a backdrop, the deep greens and greys of the thick forests, right down to the rugged, rocky shores, one could easily imagine being back in another time. In a word, it was spectacular.  
  
Firs, cedars, pines and spruce mingled their fragrances with that of the sea in an intoxicating aroma. One that Blair breathed in like a man given a second chance at life. He smiled to himself. Come to think of it, he had been given another chance. His eyes scanned the shores, spying out where springs met the salt water, listening for the falls as they tumbled over the rocks. The trees were massive in parts, some carrying loads of moss so thick it hung like hair to the ground, other's so gnarled and bent by the winds that they looked alien. He was quick to pick out wildlife here and there, mostly elk and eagles, and at one point, near the mouth of a river meeting the channel, he had spotted a bear ambling aimlessly upriver, oblivious to the passing boat.  
  
Here and there, man's influence was seen, evidenced by palatial, trophy homes built among the trees, with their docks and occasional boats moored nearby. Usually said dock was inhabited by one or two sea lions basking lazily in the afternoon sun. The houses barely kept Blair's attention, his eager blue eyes searched for something else. It wasn't too long before his searching gained rewards. As he neared a nameless island he spotted three of them, absolutely ancient, decaying in the onslaught of time, weather, and erosion. One even had a tree growing out of it. The wood having silvered ages ago.  
  
Totem Poles.  
  
His years of study and experience amongst the many different cultures in the region had taught him long ago how to read the carvings and signs on the massive ceremonial poles. These three were mortuary poles and told an elaborate mythological story. Blair, feeling the excitement clear down to his toes, easily read the carvings despite the passing of time and nature on the ancient totems. He had a love for the art of the Pacific Northwest and the stories they could tell, even to having his own particular affinity, the wolf, on the door of his former office at Rainier. He had tried several times to buy the frosted glass etching from the University, but to no avail. Here, near the Queen Charlotte Islands, the Haida had reigned supreme and their rich culture and beliefs were clearly marked out on the carvings they had left behind. Though primarily an anthropologist, the archeologist in Blair came out in full force. A study of a people's artifacts lent much to the study of the people themselves.  
  
As he gazed at the silent poles slipping quickly past him, he longed to moor the boat, get out, and explore. A wry smile played on his lips as he watched them slide quietly out of his sight. Too bad he really didn't have time to get out and play. All along this long stretch of wild coastline there were literally thousands of these poles. Many would commemorate the sites of 'potlatches', those special meeting places where the native people would gather in huge clans to give away or trade their possessions, swap stories, and celebrate feasts. A ceremony regarded with high priority amongst the Coastal Indians.  
  
Blair shook his head, his hand resting lightly on the wheel of the Sundogs as he leaned back against the rail behind him. Maybe with Sam moving back to Cascade he could coax her into a few cruises back into these islands. Maybe even bring Jim along. Blair knew a few days out here on the coast would do a lot towards recharging the batteries of his perpetually stressed partner. Blair glanced around at his location, a few boats had appeared ahead of him, then he spotted small clusters of homes along the shore. He had to be approaching Hartley Bay. He glanced at his watch. Near 3pm, it hadn't taken all that long to sail down the Douglas Channel. Sam had asked to be awakened, but Blair knew she needed to sleep. He hadn't heard a sound from inside the cabin, even when he had gone in to grab his sunglasses and a bottle of water from the fridge. Deciding to let her sleep on, he angled the Sundogs to port, letting the boat slip easily into the junction of the Tolmie and Douglas Channels. With Gribbel Island to his left, and keeping an eye out for the other boats out on the water, Blair headed south.  
  
  
  
Major Crime Bullpen, Wed. PM.  
  
Jim dropped into his chair as he tugged his tie loose, tossing it onto the top of Blair's desk. He didn't want to have to look at it any more that day. Drawing in a deep breath, he undid the top few buttons on his shirt, then rolled the kinks loose in his neck and stared at his computer monitor. The screen saver had been running all day. Only once had he been called up onto the witness stand during what promised to be a long and boring trial. Connor wisely had decided to go home once the motion to adjourn had been made. Ellison, of course, had returned to the station.  
  
The place was virtually deserted, save for Simon, sequestered in his office with Rhonda. Jim was just as glad. His headache had subsisted to just a mild throb once Blair had phoned him, but the idea of being chained to a court proceeding was guaranteed to drive him insane from the inactivity. He drummed his fingers a moment on the desk then jiggled the mouse to his computer, whisking away the screensaver. A raised eyebrow followed as he began searching for anything on the people killed in the explosion of the Denali. There had been a few hits. He called one up and before too long lost himself in the study of the person's background.  
  
It was all mostly routine stuff. He had gone through four of the researchers, skimming over their academic records, their studies and experiments. None had done anything worthy of note to a paranoid detective. Jim smirked to himself, paranoid only because of his partner. He pulled up one of the crewmembers, a Mark Settle, 35, Caucasian, merchant seaman, who had an interesting little history. As he began to read, he became oblivious to his surroundings, never hearing Rhonda leave Simon's office.  
  
He found himself focusing everything on the face before him, just your average Joe, but with a checkered past. He was so intent on his reading he didn't hear Simon approach either. It wasn't until he felt a hand rest lightly on his shoulder that he realized his boss stood next to him and had spoken to him. Blinking, he looked up.  
  
"What have you got, Jim?" Simon asked.  
  
"One of the crew members on that ship Sandburg's cousin was on. Got himself an interesting past."  
  
"A crew member? Why are you running the crew?" Simon asked, frowning. Jim sighed, glancing at the folded sheet of paper that sat near the mouse pad on his desk.  
  
"I couldn't bring myself to run Blair's cousin through the system."  
  
"You what?" Simon asked, a disbelieving smile gracing his lips.  
  
"I couldn't do it." Jim admitted. "Especially after he handed me this." He picked up the paper and waved it at Simon before dropping it back down.  
  
"And what is that?"  
  
"Everything I need to run his cousin through the computers here. He handed it to me this morning before getting on the plane. It was like saying, go ahead, I know you don't trust my family or me. Make yourself happy."  
  
"And you couldn't do it." Simon confirmed. Jim nodded, sighing.  
  
"I couldn't do it."  
  
"Maybe I can." Simon said, reaching for the paper. Jim's hand slapped down on top of it.  
  
"Don't even think about it, Simon." Simon's bass chuckle erupted forth.  
  
"Whatsa matter, Ellison? Afraid of what you might find?"  
  
"More like afraid of what it might do." Jim replied, more somberly. Simon paused, thinking.  
  
"Yeah, maybe you're right." he said. "We've had enough ruffled feathers around here to last a lifetime. And you two are finally working in sync again. Hate to see it get all out of whack."  
  
"Didn't stop me from running the crew of the ship that went down though." Jim said, raising an eyebrow, looking up at the Captain.  
  
"Satisfying your curiosity until he gets back?" Simon offered.  
  
"More like I don't trust anyone or anything around him." Jim sighed, looking back at the screen.  
  
"With Sandburg, that's a given." Simon agreed. "So who have you got there?" He looked over Jim's shoulder.  
  
"The cook on the Denali. Mark Settle, 35, been catching ships as a merchant seaman for years. Been busted several times for possession of minor substances, couple of times for soliciting a prostitute, and a few times for attempted smuggling, again mostly for minor things. Never spent more than a week or two in jail."  
  
"Nothing major about that. What about the others?"  
  
"Four were student researchers, there was nothing on them. All your basic average, college students. I haven't gotten to the Captain or the Head Researcher."  
  
"They figure out yet what caused the ship to blow?"  
  
"No, but if you hear Sandburg on it, he's convinced it was C4 or Semtex. According to his cousin the ship went down too fast to be an engine blowing up. And when you stop to think about what kind of pull had been on the cable to cause it to snap, before whipping him across the shoulders? Sounds as if the ship might have lifted up some from the force of the blast.Too bad Joel isn't around, maybe he'd know what could have caused it."  
  
"Well, has the RCMP been able to come up with anything?" Simon questioned as Jim pulled up the ship's captain.  
  
"Don't know Simon, we're still pretty early in this game." Both paused as the face of the Captain appeared on the screen. He had been native.  
  
"Samuel Tsa'Che,42, Captain of the Denali for the past 10 years. Spotless record. Hell, look at that." Jim said poking a finger at his screen. A long string of involvements in rescues up and down the Canadian and Alaskan coasts testified to the man's integrity.  
  
"Tlingit. Native Coastal Indian." Simon noted. "What a hell of a way to end your career." he said softly. Jim just grimaced, studying the man on the screen. He punched up the details on the last man on board. Here both men hit unexpected pay dirt.  
  
"What the.?" Simon started as an access denied flashed across the screen per order of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.  
  
"FBI?" Jim asked staring a moment. Both scanned the name of the man on the screen.  
  
Dr. Howard Ritter, 46, head of the Marine Biology Rehabilitation Department, University of Alaska. Salt and pepper hair with a neatly trimmed beard and moustache to match, gazed out at them with blue eyes. He had a string of academic accomplishments listed on the main information page, yet his history was being blocked by the FBI. Jim glared at his screen.  
  
"Simon, look in Sandburg's upper left hand drawer and hand me that flat blue notebook in it." he asked. The Captain frowned, turned and retrieved it. He looked curiously at Jim. Ellison flipped it open and searched through the pages until he located what he wanted. He typed in an access code.  
  
"What." Simon started.  
  
"Leave it to Sandburg to have their access codes and passwords committed to memory." Jim said as the screen paused in its activities, checking the validity of the new code. Jim smirked looking askance at Simon. "Shouldn't let him watch over the Feds shoulders, he doesn't forget a thing."  
  
Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth the computer beeped happily and the past history of Dr. Howard Ritter appeared on Jim's screen. Simon began to chuckle.  
  
"Hope to hell they can't trace it!" he chortled.  
  
"Haven't so far." Jim admitted. Simon started.  
  
"You mean you've done this before?"  
  
Jim gave him a "what do you think" look.  
  
Both men turned to the screen, reading avidly.  
  
They were left disappointed and perplexed.  
  
Simon sighed, lifting the bridge of his glasses with thumb and forefinger, and rubbed at his eyes as he squinted them shut.  
  
"Suspicion of smuggling, suspicion of bribery, suspicion of forgery, suspicion of holding illegal merchandise. Suspicion of teasing my Aunt Jesse's cat! There's nothing there to warrant the Feds withholding access to his files." he grumbled.  
  
"Would if he were involved in international boundaries." Jim murmured, sitting back in his chair and looking thoughtfully at the man on the screen. "Doesn't even say what kind of smuggling.Wonder if the RCMP has anything on him?"  
  
"Would it matter? Guy's fish food by now." Simon replied. Jim shrugged.  
  
"Sandburg said that the Corporal he met up in Kitimat let him go through the files they have. Maybe we should let him know?"  
  
"Wouldn't hurt. Let's take a look at his bank accounts." Simon said, replacing his glasses. Jim's fingers danced over the keys, pulling up the information. Both men smiled predatorily as the numbers came up.  
  
"Kinda high even for a Doctor's salary."  
  
"And it doesn't mention a thing about family money either."  
  
"Now why would a Doctor in Marine Biology have a little over a million socked away in different accounts?" Jim grumbled, his mind playing with the figures.  
  
"Gotta be something behind those suspicions." Simon smiled.  
  
"Even the Feds haven't got anything substantial." Jim pointed out.  
  
"Yeah, but what do our Northern cousins have?"  
  
"Don't mention cousins, Simon." Jim growled.  
  
"Think we should run him now?" Simon asked. "That Settle fella was convicted of a few smuggling charges, himself. Could be a link there." Jim frowned, running a hand down the length of his face, feeling the knots forming at his jaw line.  
  
"Not yet Simon. Let's give Sandburg the benefit of the doubt this time. Besides the other four students were clean. I can't see the fifth being involved in something."  
  
"Why wasn't Sandburg's cousin listed with the rest?" Simon asked.  
  
"Blair told me he'd completed his project, then accepted a job offer in Cascade, he was sailing his boat back and stopped off to see the people on board the Denali when the ship blew up."  
  
"So he wouldn't be listed on the crew's manifest." Simon concluded. He gazed thoughtfully at the screen.  
  
"I wonder if my counterpart in Juneau or Anchorage would have anything on this guy?"  
  
"Something worth digging into." Jim commented. "Let me call the RCMP station in Kitimat." He glanced at his watch. "Sandburg should be calling in sometime soon, they can't sail much after dark, not in the channels." He looked up at Simon.  
  
"I'll see what I can come up with, but I'm telling you one thing, Ellison." Simon growled. "If Sandburg's gone and gotten himself into any kind of trouble? He'd better not call here!" Jim only shook his head and smirked.  
  
He didn't want to tell Simon about the alarm bell ringing inside of his head as he gazed at the picture of Dr. Howard Ritter.  
  
  
  
Tolmie Channel, Early Wed. Evening  
  
  
  
The sound of someone walking on the deck above her head roused Samantha from her sleep. She groaned, not wanting to wake, and realized she had been in one position too long. Stiff and sore she levered herself up, and tried in vain to pull her hair from her eyes. She winced at the tug on the bandages and stitches underneath. She looked around her familiar berth and frowned. The lighting was all wrong. She drew in air, swinging her legs to the floor, listening to the footsteps as they pattered down the boat, back towards the stern.  
  
"Oh yeah." she muttered rubbing her face. She remembered that Blair was on the boat with her. She took a few moments more to wake up, but then looked up, alarmed, as she heard the mainsail rolling back into its furler. Why was he rolling in the sail? She stood up, a little shaky, reaching for the cabin door, just as he fired up the Sundogs' engine. Stepping into the salon she faced aft looking out the cabin door to the cockpit. She stopped short, dismayed.  
  
Sunlight streamed in from her starboard side, tinged pink. She looked out the porthole in alarm. The sun had begun its descent into the sea. Startled, she looked quickly to her right watching in dismay as several small islands and a long spit of land slid swiftly by. Sam shook her head.  
  
"Sh." she started to curse under her breath as she padded to the navigation station opposite the galley on the starboard side of the boat. Glancing at the control panel and the compass she looked down at the map. Blair hadn't awakened her like she'd asked. They were almost a hundred miles past where she needed to be.  
  
"Oh hell." she whispered, looking out the porthole, realizing just where they were. She forced herself to calm down, thinking hard, trying to figure out what to do. She needed his help, but she needed it further North. Grimacing, she slipped into the head, trying to think up another plan.  
  
Blair had just locked the wheel down into place when Sam emerged from the cabin, blinking at the light.  
  
"Hey!" he grinned, pulling his sunglasses down his nose a ways and gazing at her over the top of them. "You look." he shrugged. "Scary!"  
  
She hugged her arms together, fingering a ruffled ponytail band in her left hand.  
  
"Where are we?" she asked looking around, taking in the scenery.  
  
"Milbanke Sound, if my calculations are correct. Where's your fishing gear?" he asked, beginning to bounce slightly on his toes. Samantha looked at him, still not used to the shortness of his hair. She nodded at the cockpit bench and smiled slightly, remembering how he had been before they had gone their own ways.  
  
"Got your license?" he asked lifting the cushion up, then grabbed the latch to open the compartment.  
  
"Always." she replied. Blair chuckled, diving into the hold; then emerged a few minutes later with a pair of rods and reels.  
  
"I don't care what Jim says, I want to do some fishing! You want me to set up your rig?" he asked, smiling happily and dropping the hatch and cushion back down.  
  
She shook her head no.  
  
"How come you didn't wake me?" she asked as he shifted to starboard.  
  
"You needed to sleep. You weren't looking good at all up there in Kitimat. You still look awfully pale even now," he said checking over the fishing gear. "Got any bait?" he asked looking over at her. She smirked at him.  
  
"Look in the bottom left shelf in the fridge. Should be a couple of herring left inside that tupperware dish. I got them before I reached Pitt Island though," she warned.  
  
"Time to get rid of them!" Blair chortled, he moved towards her, gently resting his hands on her arms, looking down at her.  
  
"Go sit." he said nodding at the wheel. "Let me catch us a couple of salmon, and have a real feast! Mind if I raid the cupboards?" She smiled lopsidedly up at him.  
  
"Like I'm gonna say no?"  
  
Blair only grinned and disappeared down into the salon.  
  
For the next several minutes he bustled about, baiting the two fishing poles, determined to fish with both, as she settled behind the wheel. Finishing that, he disappeared inside again before returning with a light jacket and her longtime favorite sweater. The temperature had dropped to below sixty.  
  
"Still got this thing, eh?" he asked as he slid next to her on the bench behind the Sundogs' wheel. She smiled, accepting it from him. The sweater hung nearly to her knees, colored with deep blues and greens. She bit back a groan as she slipped it on.  
  
"Aunt Naomi's one and only attempt at knitting." she confirmed. She looked at Blair as she held up the ponytail band. "Help?" she asked. Blair smirked and snagged it from her fingers. Very carefully he gathered up her long thick curls and neatly pulled it back in the band. Pulling her hair from her face brought out the angles in her features. She looked withdrawn and worn out.  
  
"Thank you." she sighed in relief. She disengaged the lock on the wheel, keeping one hand steadily on it as Blair watched the poles.  
  
"Who's Jim?" she asked.  
  
"My roommate." Blair replied.  
  
"Roommate? You?" she asked. "You talked someone else into living in that rat infested warehouse?" Blair's chuckle bubbled out at her.  
  
"I haven't lived in that place in four years!"  
  
"You don't?" she asked, looking up at him, surprised. "Mister I-need- my-space?"  
  
"Ever since the meth lab next door blew it up!"  
  
"No joke?" she exclaimed looking at him with a smile of her own. Blair nodded, hiking his eyebrows. She laughed, a lovely staccato sound. "I bet that got you in hot water!"  
  
"Actually it got me a home." he teased. "And a roommate."  
  
"I can't see you with a roommate! Guy's got to be extraordinary! Or is it a she?" she asked, her face getting serious.  
  
"Oh Jim's definitely a guy!" Blair joked. "And yeah, he's extraordinary all right!" He looked at her.  
  
"What about you, Sam?" he asked. She glanced at him and tugged slightly on the wheel.  
  
"What about me?" she replied. Blair grinned and nudged her with his elbow.  
  
"Find someone yet?" he asked. If he hadn't been looking right into her face, he'd've missed the shutters that dropped over her multicolored eyes. She, however, was also slow to hide the pain that abruptly surfaced.  
  
"No." she said a touch hastily. "There isn't anyone else." She looked away and he watched her grip on the wheel turn her knuckles white.  
  
"Sam?" he asked. She sucked in air and forced a smile.  
  
"There isn't anyone, Blair. This time I had the sense to call it off before I really got myself into trouble."  
  
"When?" he asked gently, listening carefully. She shrugged, her face registering the mistake, then sighed.  
  
"Months ago. I called it off. It was getting." she shook her head. "It was getting too crazy."  
  
"He didn't hurt you did he?" Blair automatically asked.  
  
"No, no he didn't get that far." she responded. Only Blair knew about her few disasters in the past. He gazed worriedly at her, hearing far more than she was telling.  
  
"Who was it?" he asked. Sam sighed again.  
  
"Howard Ritter. Met him in Monterey, two years ago. He swept me off my feet Blair. Tall, handsome, the older man. Same old sucker routine." He could hear the bitterness in her voice. "Even coaxed me into going to work for him at the University of Alaska. When I got there though, I began to feel like something drastic was wrong. I began to see things, hear stuff. Finally I couldn't take it any longer and decided to start looking for employment somewhere else. Howard found out and, well." she glanced at Blair, a mysterious smile on her face. "The fight was on. I resigned, accepted the Cascade offer and got the hell off the Denali."  
  
"Was he on the Denali?" Blair asked, feeling an icy prickle at the back of his neck. Sam nodded.  
  
"He was the head researcher." she whispered.  
  
"What, uh, what things did you suspect?" he asked. Sam glanced at him. He wasn't looking at her, he was gazing at the fishing poles, his mind clicking at top speed.  
  
"I don't want to go there," she said softly, bringing his blue eyed gaze back to her face. "I'm not ready to deal with this yet."  
  
"You have to sometime, babe," he said softly. She smiled at him, gently exhaling.  
  
"There goes 'Dr. Sandburg', again," she said jokingly. It fell flat.  
  
"How old was he?" he asked switching tactics.  
  
"46, and you're fishing."  
  
"Well of course I'm fishing," he said, waving a hand at the poles. "Got both poles set up, too!"  
  
"You know what I mean." she responded. He looked at her, her profile to him, as she watched the actions of the boat.  
  
"I know I am," he said gently. "I haven't seen you in five years and you're stuck in the middle of a mysterious ship explosion that killed seven people. And you just admitted to being involved with one of the deceased. I'm concerned." Sam's gaze drifted further away from him.  
  
"You didn't tell Corporal Olssen this, did you?"  
  
"No." she said quietly. "It was personal, and it happened weeks ago. I had nothing more to do with him."  
  
"Sammy, he needs to know this."  
  
"Why?" she asked flatly, looking back at him, a spark setting off the amber in her hazel eyes.  
  
"Because you are the only survivor and the only witness. You need to tell him everything."  
  
"Blair? What's with the third degree? Why are you asking all these questions?" she started to snap. "You make it sound like I'm his only suspect!" Blair slapped a hand to his chest.  
  
"Sam! This is me, Br'er Blair? Your cousin? I care about you. C'mon, we were childhood buddies! Why are you slamming yourself shut on me? I've never hurt you," he said gazing at her with hurt in his eyes. Sam didn't reply she just looked away from him. Blair's colorful and unique childhood hadn't been easy and had also been incredibly lonely at times. After the loss of her family, they had become very close. She shook her head.  
  
"I've been such a damn fool, Blair." she muttered. He studied her a moment.  
  
"What, in getting involved with an older guy? The older guys have always liked you. Or was it getting involved with this one? Or him dying?"  
  
"Where did you move to?" she asked looking askance at him. Blair stared at her, then turned his head away, feeling disgusted.  
  
"What's that got to do with it?" he asked. "Don't try changing subjects on me."  
  
"Don't try psychoanalyzing me," she replied. "You want to know how I feel about Dr. Ritter being in the bottom of that damn ship? I don't. I don't feel a thing. How do I feel about the others? They were my friends, most of em. They're.gone. Something took them away. Something I couldn't do a damn thing about. How does that make me feel? Numb. Cold. Lifeless." She raised her eyebrows at him. "Satisfied?"  
  
Blair looked her straight in the eyes.  
  
"You're also lying through your teeth," he said quietly. She smirked at him, snorted softly and shook her head.  
  
"Change the subject, Blair." she warned. He could almost see the ears lying flat against her skull. He shook his head, looking away. For a few moments neither said anything, just watching the sun set. Then he finally broke the silence.  
  
"I actually live within walking distance of Bayshore Marina."  
  
As she turned to look at him he could make out the corners of her lips curling in smug triumph. He'd've given anything to be able to wrap his fingers around her throat and wring it. His shoulders dropped and he glared at her. She returned his actions with an arched eyebrow, challenging him.  
  
"You wait, Samantha.I'll find out what's going on." he said calmly. She pursed her lips.  
  
"I'm sure you will, but only when I'm ready." she murmured. Then she sighed and reached over, taking his free hand.  
  
"Don't get mad at me, Blair. You know it's been hard for me to deal with." she trailed off and shrugged.  
  
"Death, Sam, death. Say it. It's a real word, it's a real event. Time and chance happen to all," he responded, testily. "You can't keep diving behind that old excuse. You've always avoided it. You can't go on hiding from it."  
  
"How can you hide from something that's torn your soul in half? You have to live with it." She echoed hollowly. "But you don't have to like it. But how could you understand it?"  
  
Blair studied her again. Losing her parents was bad. Losing her twin had been a nightmare. Blair knew that most twins had an uncanny sixth sense in relation to one another. Its parallels to his studies on heightened senses held hundreds of cases of the strange connections between twins. His own cousins had spurred him on to what would become his life's work. But he had seen the results of what could happen when one twin lost the other. Samantha being his walking example.  
  
"Sam, believe me," he said low and quiet. "I know exactly what it feels like to lose the other half my soul."  
  
There lurked something behind his eyes as she studied his suddenly serious features. A strange quality she had noticed about him since arriving in Kitimat that morning. That part of Blair that had changed. Something deep and maturing. His grip on her fingers tightened as he realized he had her.  
  
"I've been through some things these past few years." he murmured. " At one point I came to a place in my life where I was in Tab's shoes. Only I came back." Sam couldn't look away from him. She stared, studying this different Blair Sandburg.  
  
"I reached a point where I had to make a choice between all my hopes and dreams or save the life of someone else. That same place Tab was at." Sam shivered. His eyes alone held her, the tone in his voice convinced her.  
  
"Do you have any idea how close you almost came to dealing with my death?" he asked, raising his left hand, pinching his thumb and forefinger together. "Two years ago I was drowned in the fountain at Hargrove Hall. I was dead, Sam. The paramedics had given up. I quit breathing. If it hadn't been for Jim refusing to give up, you'd be dealing with my death too."  
  
"What?" she hissed, appalled. She tried to pull away from him, but he clutched her hand in his. Blair watched the fear invade her eyes and face.  
  
"Would you deal with my death the same way you are with Tab? Or with this Dr. Ritter? Or Uncle Alan and Aunt Ruth? I'd like to think, Sam, that after all the hell we went through, getting through college as young as we were, that I'd merit a different response." She tried to pull away again, pinned in place by his eyes.  
  
"What are you talking about?" she gasped, trying to pull away. Blair kept going.  
  
"A woman named Alex killed me. She drowned me in the fountain pool. I died, Sam. Only I didn't stay dead. My roommate pulled me back. What I want to know is, if I really stayed dead, would you continue to deny my death as much as you have Tabitha's? Are you gonna continue hiding and running from death?"  
  
"Don't do this!" she protested, trying to stand up. Blair could feel the tension threatening to boil over.  
  
"Listen to me," he urged pulling her back down. "You can't bottle it up any more! Several people are dead. You knew them. The cause of their death is in the middle of an investigation by a foreign country. You have to get past some of this emotional baggage and help them find out what the cause was. I know you, Sam. You're not telling me everything, either voluntarily or because you're repressing it." She tried to yank her arm away, looking at him in a mixture of horror and fear.  
  
"Sam.Don't shut me out." he implored. "You called me for help, remember? Let me help.C'mon Sammy. What do you think is gonna happen to you if you break down just a little? You aren't gonna break you know? You're a hell of a survivor! You've proven that to everyone one who knows you for the past 16 years." He searched her face.  
  
"Sammy." he pleaded. "Let me help you. I wouldn't dream of hurting you, you know that. Let's work this thing out together."  
  
"Not now!" she growled at him through gritted teeth, finally jerking her arm loose. Blair threw his hands up in the air in frustration.  
  
"What the hell are you waiting for?" he snapped at her, scrambling to his feet. He dodged past the wheel and began to pace the short length of the cockpit. "You were able to get past your Mom and Dad's death fairly quickly because you dealt with it early, Sam! It took you years to deal with Tab and you never fully resolved it! Now you have this mess, you realize that you may not have the option of shoving it aside? If that ship was blown up deliberately you are the only suspect they have!"  
  
"You don't believe that for a second!" she snapped at him, horrified by the implication. Blair rounded on her, anger on his features.  
  
"Sammy, I don't know what to believe about you at the moment!" Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth he regretted it. The look of shock on Sam's face, even as the color drained from her features etched themselves irrevocably on his memory.  
  
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he scrambled, approaching her, running his fingers through his hair, apologetic. Sam just stiffened, her eyes spinning, as she glared back at him. Blair stopped.  
  
"Sammy, I didn't mean it. I apologize!"  
  
"It's getting dark," she said tersely. "We have to moor for the night."  
  
"Sam!" Blair implored. She ignored him, reaching forward to shove the engine throttles forward.  
  
"You better get the lines in before they foul the prop," she snapped.  
  
"Sam I know you weren't behind the ship exploding." he implored. Sam just stood up, grabbed the Sundogs' wheel and spun it to port. The sloop instantly responded, angling sideways. Blair could feel the anger literally radiating from her. Staring hard at her a moment, he finally sighed and snatched the portside rod from it's holder and began reeling it in. He felt an odd sense of déjà vu dealing with Sam. She buried her grief like his partner did. Only instead of hiding behind stoicism and repressed memories, Sam dove behind a wall of denial and anger.  
  
Jackson Narrows Provincial Marine Park, Dawn, Thurs.  
  
Silent as a cat, Samantha cracked open her cabin door and glanced at Blair. The nightlight cast from the galley stove provided just enough illumination for her to see by. He had converted the starboard settee to a full sized bed by dismantling the dining table. Sprawled on his stomach, wrapped around a pillow and buried underneath the spare blankets, he was sound asleep, snoring softly.  
  
The evening had been bad. Once they had located semi private moorage in one of the many coves of the Marine Park, she had dropped anchor and locked herself in her berth, letting Blair fend for himself. Shortly after, he made a phone call on the cell phone she had noticed him carrying, obviously talking to his roommate. He relayed their position for the night, their plans for the morning, then had gone about setting up his bed for the night. That cell phone was what had drawn her from her berth.  
  
Slipping out quietly, she glanced at his stuff cast haphazardly on the port side settee, where he had also dropped the pole for the table. At some point during the evening, he had changed into his sweats, draping his jeans and belt on the settee next to his duffel and backpack. Sam glanced at him and reached down for his belt. Deftly, keeping one eye on him, she removed the phone from its holder. Satisfied, she padded noiselessly to the galley, slid a drawer carefully open and reached inside. Her fingers quickly located a solid metal object, which she palmed, and gently slid the drawer shut. It disappeared into the pockets of her Capri jeans.  
  
She moved to the navigation table where, with one eye on her oblivious cousin, she leaned across the map they had left out, studying it for a moment. Glancing at the barometer she reckoned on a good wind in typical summer coastal conditions. With care she then reached over and removed the receiver from it's cord. Two down one more to go.  
  
Here came the tricky part. Blair had forever been a walking thermometer to temperature changes. It had gotten fairly chilly at night, though the day promised to be hot. Sam knew, though, that he could awaken when she slipped out the cabin door to the cockpit. Her hunch proved right. She eased the door open, slipped quickly outside, and headed for the wheel.  
  
Blair felt the drop in temperature, burrowed down into his blankets, and fought against waking up. The cocoon of warmth he'd made lured him back to his slumbers, until it dawned on his sleep fogged brain that he was on a boat and it had just gotten chilly inside. Groggily he opened his eyes, blinking in confusion at the dimly lit cabin. With a groan he pulled the blanket off his face and glanced at the illuminated numbers of the microwave clock in Sam's galley.  
  
4:46 am?  
  
Groaning, he tunneled back into his warm nest, trying to go back to sleep, but his brain had woken up. Why had it gotten cold all of a sudden? Sighing in disgust, he reached up with his other hand and pulled the blankets down, listening. At first he thought that Sam was still in her berth, until he felt the subtle shifting of the boat underneath him. What was she doing up so early? He rolled over, glanced at the galley, propped up on one elbow, and wondered if maybe she had finally emerged to eat something. Then he realized she was outside. That explained the drop in temperature. He sat up, swung his sweats clad legs to the floor and scrubbed at his face, tousling his short curls.  
  
"Sam?" he asked, tugging his sweatshirt down over the T-shirt he wore and fighting against the urge to shiver. Rising, he looked out the cabin window.  
  
Her back to him, all he saw was Sam in her knee length jeans, canvas tennis shoes with no socks, and the blue and green sweater, barely visible in the dawn light. A curtain of long curly hair obscured his view as she leaned over the port side storage hold. It appeared as if she were padlocking the latch down. Blair frowned. Why would she be battening things down securely? They weren't expecting stormy weather. He gripped his arms and made his way up into the cockpit.  
  
"Sam?" he asked as he emerged, just as she straightened. "What are you doing?"  
  
She turned at first starting a little, then more slowly. Blair frowned again.  
  
"Couldn't sleep," she said, glancing at him, then away. "Thought I'd check the boat. Get her ready." She reached over, taking the mainsail lines and slipped it around a capstan next to the starboard side cleat. He could see she still moved stiffly.  
  
"Sam, it's not even 5:00 am! We aren't in that much of a rush. C'mon back inside. Let me make you some breakfast.that is if you'll let me?" he looked at her sleepily, an optimistic expression on his face. He fervently hoped the argument the night before had been forgotten.  
  
She gazed at him, her eyes dark, and shook her head. He noticed an oddly sad expression on her face.  
  
"I'm not very hungry, Blair." she replied softly. Blair sighed.  
  
"Coffee, then? It's freezing out here." His teeth chattered for emphasis.  
  
"Give me a few more minutes," she sighed. Blair grinned, maybe there was a thawing in the tension after all.  
  
"Comin' right up.after I use the head." he joked, and disappeared back down into the salon. He didn't see Sam bite her lower lip and glance away starboard at two other boats moored fairly far away in the cove.  
  
The sun had just started to rise and had yet to make it's way up over the trees shrouding the inlet. She had barely gotten the second receiver unhooked from the wheel com and all three devices locked securely in the port hatch before he had appeared. She slipped the key to the padlock she had retrieved earlier into her pocket and waited until Blair reemerged. So far he hadn't noticed anything amiss, such as that she had switched the lines to the opposite side of the boat. Or that they were now rendered incommunicado.  
  
Inside, Blair filled the coffee pot with a bottle of distilled water he snagged out of the fridge when Sam slowly came down the stairs.  
  
"Sore?" he asked, fastening the cap back on and putting it away. She nodded, watching him carefully. He was more awake now, and beginning to bustle around. He had flipped the main salon light on and scrounged in the cupboards looking for the coffee.  
  
"Yeah." she replied distantly.  
  
"We need to check those stitches. Want to do that now or later?" he asked, locating the grounds.  
  
"Later." she murmured. He glanced at her, noticing the distraction in her voice.  
  
"What is it?" he asked, scooping away, filling the filter.  
  
"Remember what I told you about falling out of the dinghy?" she said softly. Blair, startled, looked at her. He hadn't expected this. He blinked at her.  
  
"Uh, yeah?"  
  
"I wasn't in the dinghy," she said. "I swam from the Denali to the boat."  
  
"You what?" he asked. That funny ice cold prickle trailed down his spine again.  
  
"Somebody had taken the dinghy," she said as she met his gaze. Her strange eyes seemed darker than usual. "I was climbing on board the Sundogs when Denali blew up. The cable hit me and knocked me back into the water. When I surfaced and realized what was happening, I had to swim my way back to the boat. When I did, I found something in the debris that was coming down all around me." Blair stared at her, speechless.  
  
"It's under my mattress, left side of the berth," she said, nodding towards the bow. Blair couldn't move for a second, he just stared at his cousin. This thing with the Denali was getting weirder by the second. Now this? He snapped the lid back down on the coffee, and leaned against the counter, studying her. Sam's eyes never left him.  
  
"Sam.What the hell are you doing?" he asked softly.  
  
"It's old Blair, I think it's a ceremonial paddle of some sort. It was amongst the debris from the explosion."  
  
"Sam.why haven't you told this to Olssen?" he asked sharply. "And how come he didn't find it?" He shook his head, heaving a disgusted sigh. A ceremonial paddle, an old one. What the hell?  
  
"Because I hid it somewhere else," she said, "I moved it to my room when you called your friend yesterday." She gripped her arms, shoving the rolled sleeves back up.  
  
"I think Howard Ritter was smuggling artifacts, or collecting them? I'm not sure which. I think the Captain found out about it and threatened Ritter. Howard is crazy, Blair. I wouldn't put it past him to blow the Denali up, to protect himself. Whatever that thing is I found has to be from an old site. Howard loved them as old as he could get them. His collecting was an obsession. And he didn't care who got in the way when he found something he wanted."  
  
"For cryin' out loud Sam! Why didn't you say anything about this earlier?" Blair exploded. "This thing has international implications! Not to mention historical, cultural, tribal, and criminal on top of it! You've been withholding information. That can get you imprisonment, Sam! Why the hell are you telling me this now? You need to be telling this to Eric Olssen." He pushed off the counter with his hip and started to move towards the nav station.  
  
"I'm telling you this because I need your help. I don't think Howard Ritter was on board the Denali when it blew. I don't think he knows I survived it," she moved forward, blocking his exit. "I want you to come back up to Pitt Island with me and see if there is a site up there that he's been plundering."  
  
"What?" he erupted, "I can't do that, I have to be back in Cascade by Monday! I have a job I have to go to! I can't just drop everything and head back up there. Besides, you have to get your slip space." he stared at her, frozen in his place.  
  
"Or have you lied to me about that too?" he said, his voice low and dangerous. Sam shook her head.  
  
"I have slip space reserved for me in Cascade, Blair. At Bayshore Marina, slip 33," she said. "And I haven't been lying to you." she added. Blair snorted in disbelief.  
  
"Why am I finding that hard to believe?" he snapped angrily. Surprisingly she didn't get angry back at him.  
  
"Because the evidence is under my mattress, " she responded coolly. "Go take a look." She nodded at the bow again. Blair glared at her, then spun on his heel and headed for her room. Sam was one step behind him.  
  
He entered the berth, which had standing room for only one person at a time. Sam stayed in the salon. He glanced once at her, then bent to lift the mattress up. As he did, she reached right, and slammed the door shut. Familiarity with her boat's layout for many years caused her fingers to move of their own volition. Her hands flew up to the left throwing the upper storm latch shut, locking her cousin inside. She then stooped, shoving the bottom bolt home.  
  
"Sam?" Blair exclaimed, hearing the bolts slide into place. He grabbed the knob, shoving against it. It refused to budge. "Sam!" he yelled, trying it again. She backed up from the door, glancing at the port settee. Blair was very strong. His shoulder slamming against the door caused the whole boat to vibrate.  
  
"Open the damn door, Sam!" he yelled at her. Sam grabbed the table post and shoved it up under the doorknob, stomping the lower portion into the floor.  
  
"This isn't funny, Sam! Open the door!" He slammed into again. The door held. Sam backed away, glancing again at the settee. She grabbed his jeans, fished into a pocket and withdrew her boat keys.  
  
"What the hell do you think your doing?" he hollered, angry. "Sam, open this damn door!" He could hear her backing up. He hit the door again.  
  
"Sam!" He yelled. He heard the cabin door being locked as she disappeared outside.  
  
"SAAAMMM!!"  
  
Seconds later, a furious Blair felt and heard the anchor being raised.  
  
"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!" he growled, pounding at the door. The engine turned over, and he rocked back a little as he felt Samantha maneuvering the boat out of their moorage. He scrambled to the starboard side window, staring out as they began to pick up speed. His worst suspicions were confirmed. Not only had his cousin just locked him in her berth, she intended on sailing back the way they had just come.  
  
"Sam! Do you realize you're kidnapping a Detective!?" he yelled. His hollering fell on deaf ears. Blair suddenly closed his eyes in realization, feeling as if someone had just dumped ice water on him.  
  
Jim.  
  
Blair's partner was going to be furious.  
  
Cascade Courthouse, Thurs. Afternoon.  
  
"Ellison!" Connor snapped, trying to catch up with the detective. Jim paced the hallway like a caged lion, viciously stabbing at the cell phone in his hand. He ignored her, turned on his heel and raised the phone to his ear.  
  
"Are you deliberately trying to get this case thrown out of court?" she snapped at him, attempting to keep pace with him. "I never ever seen a judge reprimand someone for fidgeting! Are you out of your mind?" His icy glare was her only answer.  
  
"Sometimes, Ellison! There are times when I'd just love to bury you in a bull ant nest!" she snapped at him. "Then sit back and watch them peel your hide off!" Her threats bounced off him. He spun away, pacing and scowling at the phone. Down the hall, Simon's towering figure appeared in view. He couldn't help but hear the irate Aussie in full roar.  
  
"Connor!" he snapped, approaching the pair as people made room. "What the." he started.  
  
"Don't you ever," she snapped, pointing an accusing finger in his face. "Ever! Partner me up with this, this bullheaded, " she began a rather colorful litany of words Simon wasn't about to try and decipher. "And furthermore, I'm not setting foot inside that courtroom if he's in it!" She glared hard at both the Captain, then Ellison. Ellison continued ignoring her. Megan threw her hands in the air, growling, then stormed off. Simon gazed in bewilderment after her, then looked at Jim.  
  
"Ellison!" he snapped, as the detective jabbed again at the phone, disconnecting his line. Ellison only raised an eyebrow at him, turned and paced away. He began stabbing in another set of numbers.  
  
"I just got a call from the D.A.'s office about you!"  
  
"Have you heard from Juneau?" Ellison's voice clipped out. He had the phone to his ear again.  
  
"No I haven't heard from Juneau! What the hell are you doing getting a postponement in this trial? The D.A.'s office is coming unglued, because you couldn't sit still in a court proceeding? What's the idea behind the judge adjourning until Monday? Have you gone completely insane?"  
  
"Maybe she wanted a long vacation," Jim replied tersely. He scowled again at the phone, viciously stabbing the disconnect button.  
  
"I can't get through to Kitimat, I keep getting their answering machine."  
  
"Why are you trying to get through up there?" Simon demanded, straightening up to his full, formidable, height. "I just spent the last twenty minutes attempting to convince the Assistant Prosecutor that you don't need to be locked up in a straight jacket!"  
  
"Sandburg didn't phone in this morning." Jim started, hitting the automatic redial. Simon sucked in air, looking away as he planted both fists on his hips.  
  
"I did not hear that," he said, his voice deadly calm.  
  
"I knew sending him up there was a mistake, Si." Ellison snapped, the phone back to his ear. The glare that proceeded from the tall black, caused Jim to pause. "Captain," he quickly amended, turning away.  
  
"Ellison!" Simon barked, trying in vain to get the man's attention. Ellison just shook it off like water off a duck's back.  
  
"I'm catching the next flight up there, Captain. I knew this whole thing was a mistake from the beginning."  
  
"You aren't going anywhere!" Simon barked. Jim turned his laser blue eyes on him. His whole manner had gone into the deep freeze.  
  
"Try and stop me," he said flatly. Somebody answered on the other end of his line.  
  
"Yeah, can you get me the number for Cascade Air Harbor?" he asked, tucking the phone into his shoulder as he fished up his notebook and a pen.  
  
"You get on that plane Ellison," Simon warned coldly. "And I will haul your sorry ass before a disciplinary action committee!" Jim just eyed him back, writing quickly. He instantly hung up and started stabbing numbers again. Simon just glared at his detective, seeing there wasn't even a crack in the man's demeanor towards his threats.  
  
"Yeah, when is your next flight to Kitimat, British Columbia?" He pulled his sleeve back checking his watch then he frowned. "Nothing sooner?" he asked.  
  
"Jiiiimm.." Simon growled.  
  
"Book me on that flight then. No, I'll pay when I get there. Just secure that seat for me. Jim Ellison. What d'you need my address for? 852 Prospect, Apt. 307, Cascade, WA. No I don't smoke! Just book me the damn seat!" He stabbed at the disconnect, and looked at his bristling boss.  
  
"I've been trying to get a hold of Sandburg all day. Nobody is answering the phone. If he were just having a little too much fun, he or his cousin would eventually answer the phone. Nobody has picked up all day. Something is wrong." He jabbed at the auto dial again, juggling phone, pen, and notebook.  
  
"Yeah, can you get me the number for Bayshore Marina? In Cascade yes."  
  
"Ellison." Simon growled, watching as he scribbled on his pad. Ellison, just sniffed, disconnected and stabbed numbers.  
  
"Bayshore Marina?" he asked. "This is Detective Ellison with the Cascade PD. I need you to confirm whether or not a slip space is being held for a Sam McClennen. Slip 33. Yeah I'll hold." Jim eyed the Captain, as he paused, his eyebrows rising curiously. "Yeah I'm still here. You are holding a slip for him? When does it have to be claimed?" he asked. Simon didn't like the triumph that appeared behind the unnaturally light blue eyes. "August 28th? That's not the 8th, correct? It's August 28th? Thank you very much." He disconnected then slipped the worn out phone into his jacket pocket.  
  
"Something is going on. Blair's cousin has lied to him. There isn't any urgent need to get to Cascade, and now he's not answering his phone? I'm headed up there, Simon. Nothing is going to keep me from that flight." He started to pace again, pinching his upper lip thoughtfully.  
  
"We need to contact both Coast Guards, see if they can't raise the boat or at least track its position. And I need to be able to take my weapon."  
  
"You can forget that, Ellison!" Simon snapped angrily at him. "I don't want you leaving in the first place! This damn trial is too important for you to go running off after Sandburg again! You just wait until I get my hands on his.." Ellison's phone ringing brought both men up short.  
  
Jim snatched it up out of his jacket pocket.  
  
"Ellison!" he barked.  
  
"Corporal Olssen, RCMP Kitimat? What's with all the messages on my answering machine Detective?"  
  
"Olssen! Listen, this is Blair Sandburg's partner.have you heard anything from him today at all?"  
  
"I realize who you are, Detective.as for Blair? I haven't heard a word.why?"  
  
"He failed to check in this morning.we've been trying to raise him all day. Can you contact the boat he's on?"  
  
"The Sundogs? Sure I can call it."  
  
"While you're at it? Have you come up with anything on Dr. Howard Ritter, on the Denali?"  
  
"Dr. Ritter." Olssen started. "You've been doing some homework haven't you Detective? What have you come up with?" Jim chuckled coldly.  
  
"Who's questioning who here?"  
  
"Howard Ritter isn't someone we play around with." Olssen responded.  
  
"FBI thinks that way also." Jim replied. "All they have is a lot of suspicions."  
  
"Ritter's been implicated in several episodes of illegally obtaining Tribal artifacts. He's a known collector, with a vicious streak. Money and muscle isn't an object to him. He knows when to wheel and deal his trophies. We've been trying to catch him on one of his buying /selling sprees, but to no avail. The guy is slippery and careful. I kind of find it hard to believe that he went down with the Denali. But according to what McClennen's told us he was on the ship when it blew up."  
  
"McClennen's been dishing us a few lies." Jim responded. "Found out that the need to get to Cascade in a hurry was a ruse."  
  
"Oh? Now why am I not surprised by that?" Olssen began to chuckle. "That little sh**!" he mumbled. "Almost started a world war over here with the Resident Nurse."  
  
"You suspect McClennen of being a part of this?" Jim asked glancing at Simon, who hovered impatiently.  
  
"Suspect.possibly. Do I have any evidence? No. Blair reassured me he'd get what he could though."  
  
"If anyone can, it's Sandburg." Jim confirmed. "And that makes me even more suspicious. He promised to keep in contact with me twice a day. Listen.I'm catching the next flight up to Kitimat.can you meet me? I need to get to my place and pack.  
  
I'm gonna hand you to Captain Banks, he'll fill you in on what I know."  
  
"Yeah I'll meet you, let me see if I can raise the Sundogs." Olssen replied. Jim handed the phone to Simon.  
  
"I'm outta here. He's trying to contact the boat. I gotta get going."  
  
"Ellison! You better damn well be back in Cascade by Monday morning, 9:00am sharp, and don't forget to take a cell phone with you!" Simon yelled, tossing his own cell to Jim. Jim didn't reply, he snatched the phone Simon tossed to him, turned and ran off Simon slapped Jim's phone to his ear.  
  
"Olssen?" he barked.  
  
"Right here, trying to contact the boat. I'm not getting anything. I seem to get the feeling that Little Miss McClennen is about to pay a visit to Pitt Island."  
  
"Little miss who?" Simon snapped, his eyes growing huge, he spun around watching Jim's tall form disappearing in the crowd of people.  
  
"Ellison!" he hollered vainly hoping that Jim was listening with a little more than his normally higher settings. The Detective vanished.  
  
"McClennen." Olssen replied. "Samantha McClennen.you mean to tell me you guys don't know that Sandburg's cousin is a girl?" At that the Mountie began to laugh.  
  
"What the hell is so funny about it?" Simon demanded angrily.  
  
"Oh nothing, nothing, not a thing.I just hope Ellison's prepared for five feet two inches of pure mule-headed female stubbornness."  
  
"Let me clue you in on something Corporal!" Simon snapped back. "Jim Ellison wrote the book on stubbornness. And he's got an advantage over any one of us, not to mention a partner that's involved!" He suddenly shoved his glasses up onto his head and ran a hand down the length of his face, swearing under his breath.  
  
"Sandburg's cousin is a girl!" he muttered sourly. "I'm gonna wring his scrawny little neck! After I kick his butt from here to Vancouver and back!" On the other end of the line, Eric Olssen began to laugh again.  
  
South Pitt Island, Early Thursday Evening.  
  
One hand on the wheel, the other hand manning the line, Sam trimmed the mainsail, catching the stiff winds blowing off Estevan Sound to the best effect. Sundogs flew, cutting through the waves like butter. Sam shook, knowing her back and shoulders were beyond strained with fatigue. She had ignored the persistent pain and only slowed down during the day when having to pass through a maze of small islands and sea stacks bordering the Sound to the west, the British Columbia coast being a virtual jigsaw puzzle of stacks, islands, spits, and peninsulas. Guaranteed to even drive Theseus crazy trying to track a Minotaur. Dusk was only an hour or so away when she finally spotted Pitt Island. She sighed in relief. Principe Channel opened its welcome arms and she angled the Sundogs towards it, keeping Campania Island to her starboard side. Despite the toll taken upon her physically, the fact she had cut up nearer the ocean side of the coast had helped in getting her to the island faster than going back up the Inside Passage.  
  
She had one more obstacle to get past. That of any search craft left behind at the scene of the Denali's sinking. Haniak Inlet was the first of several inlets. Her intention was to sail along a narrow nameless island just west of the inlet's mouth and find anchorage in one of the other coves. There, the sailing would be a little trickier if she hit the currents wrong. As it happened, she hit it just right, but the winds proved tricky and she had to tack the mainsail several times to get the winds to push the boat swiftly past the islet. All the while keeping a sharp eye on the depth sounder, while the pain from her cuts begged her to stop. Eventually she made her way past the inlet and spent the next twenty minutes searching the coast for a cove to moor in for the night. She also hoped fervently to spot a missing dinghy.  
  
Knowing the dinghy was unreliable, (providing, of course, that Ritter had taken it, of which she was most certain,) he had to have headed into one of the inlets or coves just north of Haniak. As the sun began to set and the narrow Principe Channel started to get dangerously dark out, she found moorage. Sam locked down the wheel, scrambled shakily towards the bow to drop the jib sail, then headed back and furled the main. Starting the engine, she angled Sundogs into a long narrow inlet, watching the depth sounder until she finally felt she had found a secure spot, with little to no rocking from the waves and deep enough to avoid getting grounded by low tide. It put them close to a tiny beach with a rocky spit that protected the cove, providing shelter if they ever had to swim for it. She glanced apprehensively at the cabin door. She had a few more things to do. She let the anchor drop.  
  
Fishing out the key to the padlock she leaned wearily over the port hatch, shoved the pad aside and undid the lock. Digging around a few seconds in the waning light, Sam hauled out a length of chain with another padlock on it. She secured the hold again, then turned to the Sundogs' wheel. Seconds later she rendered the vessel inoperable, the wheel chained to its pedestal, unable to be turned. She drew in a breath of air, looking at the slender wheel console. Reaching out she unscrewed the chrome cap off the wheel hub, slipped both padlock keys into it, and screwed it back on. There was no way, short of getting it out of her, for Blair to operate the boat.  
  
She heaved a weary sigh, looking towards the cabin door. She could feel the cramps beginning to attack her arms and shoulders, along with the pins and needles. She hadn't eaten in nearly 24 hours and had the shakes to prove it. She was flat out ready to drop. But she knew the evening was far from over. Getting the cabin door keys, she went in to let Blair out of the foreword berth.  
  
All day he had alternated between yelling, talking, pleading, cursing and every variation in between before giving up. He then alternated between trying to force the door, kick it, beat it, whatever he could to vent his frustration. He finally lapsed into meditating, forcing himself to be calm, mulling over the turn of events. At one point he even fell asleep. Of one thing he was certain. His cousin was nuts. Sprawled out on his back, hands clasped behind his head, legs crossed, he stared at the ceiling listening as she stumbled around securing the boat for the night. He wondered if she intended to leave him in there all night. If she did.he thought, smirking, she'd have a hell of a mess to clean up. Somehow he knew though, that she had gotten to where she wanted to be. He waited.  
  
Presently, he was rewarded with the sound of the cabin door being unlocked. He swung his legs to the floor, sitting up. At first he thought she'd come straight to the berth door until, after a long pause, he heard the head flushing. 'Oh just you wait.' he thought bitterly. 'After I tear you limb from limb,' He waited a few moments longer then heard the post being removed. The latches soon followed. He decided to wait a few minutes longer.  
  
Sam backed quickly away, expecting him to come right out, and braced herself for whatever would happen next. Nothing happened. Cautiously she reached down, snagging one of the long forgotten blankets and with a groan, wrapped it around herself. She knew she had to sit down soon before she fell over. She did just that.shoving his pillow aside, she painfully scooted back, leaning wearily against the cushion on the starboard settee. She curled herself into a tight ball, facing the berth. Then waited. Within seconds, her head dropped, eyes closed. Only to jerk back awake when the door opened.  
  
The cousins eyed each other. One poker faced, the other with smoldering anger.  
  
Blair glared at her, moving silently past and immediately vanished into the head. Her head had dropped back down again when he emerged, causing her to jerk back and wince. Blair ignored it, just heading straight for his jeans. He just knew the cell phone was gone. He turned around, facing her, wrapped in the blanket and eyeing him, blank faced.  
  
"Where is it?" he hissed. She only shook her head. Blair dropped them back down, turning to the nav station. He spotted the receiver missing.  
  
"You locked them in the hold, didn't you?" he demanded, his voice low. "Give me the keys Sam. Now." She just shook her head silently. It took everything he had to keep his voice calm.  
  
"Dammit Sam, you are in the deepest world of sh**!" he seethed. "Do you know what I do for a living?" he demanded. Sphinx like, she just watched him. His blue eyes bored into her hazel ones.  
  
"I'm a Detective Sam, for the Cascade Police Department, and I have been officially missing for a little over twelve hours now!" He growled through gritted teeth. Sam blinked and started to laugh, at first a dry strained chuckle, then an overly weary giggle.  
  
"C'mon Blair you used to be able to come up with a better story than that." She replied hoarsely, dropping her head again, shaking it. Something smacked the cushion with a loud whack next to her head causing her to jump. Blair was poker faced now as she watched his wallet slide to her side.  
  
"Open it!" he snapped angrily. She looked up at him, then reached out from under the blanket and grabbed it. He was greatly satisfied as the color drained from her face when she flipped the leather open. Staring up at her was a gold shield emblazoned with the Cascade PD crest. Next to it was his identification card with picture, clearly identifying him as member of the Cascade PD, at a detective's rank. Sam's world suddenly became a little fuzzy.  
  
"I can think of several, several," he barked "things that you could be arrested for not only on a local scale but on a federal one as well! You've kidnapped a detective. You've held him against his will. You've lied about an explosion that has killed several people and you are risking certain death and dismemberment from my overly protective, paranoid, partner once he finds our sorry butts out here floating around this damn island!" he snarled, reeling points off with his fingers.  
  
"You're damned lucky you're only facing me at the moment and we're in Canadian Waters! But by God, when Jim gets a hold of you." he let the threat hang.  
  
"I didn't lie to you about the explosion." she said. "Did you bother looking under the mattress? I didn't lie about any of that! And how the hell was I supposed to know about this?" She waved his shield at him. "The last time I saw you you were pursuing a Ph.D. on Sentinels! Now you're telling me you're a cop? I'm still finding this hard to believe!" She tossed the shield back at him.  
  
"Don't twist the issue on me Sam! I'm in absolutely no mood for it! I want to know exactly what happened on board the Denali and I want my cell phone back now!"  
  
"I told you what happened on the Denali!" She snapped back, scrambling off the settee bed, she shoved past Blair, heading for the berth. He ran one hand through his hair in frustration, turning away as she clawed under her mattress. Seconds later she emerged holding something that made his breath catch when he spun to face her. The implications suddenly turning the chaos he had become involved in into a real three-ring circus.  
  
Nearly as long as she was tall, Sam hefted up a carved ceremonial Haida paddle. The handle had been broken off, but the carvings themselves were genuine. Three entities, Thunderbird, Raven, Whale. The wood so old it had been stained nearly black testifying to time, a long time, spent in the ground. He didn't even have to touch it to see it was extremely old. He swore softly under his breath.  
  
"I wasn't lying Blair. This thing nearly hit me when I came up out of the water after the ship blew up. I still have bloodstains on it. It almost sank, before I could grab it. Once I got back on the Sundogs, I hid it in my storage hold, under the steps there. I know Howard Ritter got it off this island somewhere and I know Samuel Tsa' Che, the Captain found out about it. He was furious. He and Ritter were fighting. I hid in the Nav station of the Denali until they quit arguing. I heard Howard threaten to kill the Captain if he tried to stop him from bringing out more artifacts. He said he had found an exposed longhouse. I don't know how long I stayed hidden. But when I tried to leave, the dinghy was missing and I got mad, so I swam to the boat. Then Denali blew up. I know Howard Ritter took my dinghy. He had to have survived that explosion. As it was I barely got off of it myself! But six people didn't and I know who killed them!"  
  
"Sam! This is a matter for the police, the Mounties in particular, to handle. Not you!" He suddenly let out a cynical chuckle, his hands, palms out, waving, his head shaking. "You are NOT a cop!" The hands flew in the air. "I can't BELIEVE I just said that!"  
  
"And you're suddenly telling me you are?!" she shot back, feeling a cold sweat start to sweep over her. She swallowed thickly, reaching up to run a shaky hand down her face. "You were teaching anthropology classes and trying to find anyone who had all his senses working out of kilter when I left. How am I supposed to believe you became a cop? Your whole life has been Anthropology. You've been determined since we were all together in Paraguay that summer that.that summer." Sam shook her head, turning away to grasp the berth doorframe, the paddle slipping from her grasp. "I've got to lie down." she breathed, then staggered. Blair barely caught the artifact as her grip let loose.  
  
"I can't believe that." she gasped, dropping wearily on her bed. "I can't believe that. You.you've always wanted to study people. Sentinels. That was your goal." Blair clenched his teeth, set the paddle on the settee and followed her into the room.  
  
"Things change!" he snapped as she flattened out on her stomach. "People change." He took her arm, shoving her over onto her back. Her sudden gasp immediately made him let go. She stared up at him, shocked.  
  
"It took me four damned hard years to get that shield. And you had better believe it's for real! Now, I want the keys to that padlock out there, Sam. I have got to call my partner. We made arrangements to stay in touch while I was gone. I have got to call him!"  
  
"Things change all right," she whispered studying his face. "You've changed. I don't know who the hell you are anymore!" Blair closed his eyes, his fists clenching. He stood up straight, sucking in air. Forcing calm he looked down at Sam.  
  
"And I don't know who you are anymore either. We were close at one time, Sam," he said so quietly she barely heard him. "There was a time when you and I could talk about anything. I don't know where that Sam is anymore. All I've seen is a bitter, selfish, stubborn little fool who is in trouble so deep that there isn't a damn thing I can do to help you." His shoulders suddenly drooped and a look of weary compassion filled his eyes. Sam could only stare back at him.  
  
"There was a time when I would have done anything to help you, too, Sam. There were times I did. But this." he waved a hand at the interior of the boat. "This is too much. You've lied to me, you locked me up against my will, you've taken me someplace I didn't want to go, but you know what hurts the worst?" he shook his head.  
  
"You don't believe me. I haven't lied to you, Sam. Even after all the years of dealing with Uncle Alan's, Aunt Ruth's, and Tabitha's deaths, I didn't lie to you. I always told you the cold, bare, hard truth. Now, I've told you the truth and you don't believe me. I don't know what to say to that, Sam. All I know, is that the Sam I knew and the person before me, aren't the same person I used to know. You've changed. And I don't like what I see."  
  
She was the first to blink. His words settled over her like a soft rain. They eyed one another. Finally Blair let out a sigh, shook his head and turned away. Sam stared at him a minute, beginning to remember all the time they had spent together as teenagers. She suddenly felt bone weary and old beyond her years. She lay there for a few minutes as he moved into the galley, thinking hard, feeling like someone had kicked her in the gut. He had always been there for her. He had even come running at the drop of a hat now. She closed her eyes and groaned. Forcing her protesting body back upright, she gained her feet, weaving unsteadily. Blair stood with his hands gripping the counter, staring out the blackened porthole at nothing.  
  
"Blair." she said quietly, wobbling on her feet. "I." He looked over at her, saying nothing. She looked away, hanging her head, feeling the boat sway. She moved her feet, moving closer to him. Standing there, she looked at him again. He hadn't looked away.  
  
"Blair.I'm...I," she looked up, suddenly seeing three of him as the sweat broke out again. She swayed.  
  
"I'm sorry." she whispered. "I know I can be really stupid."she swallowed, frowning.  
  
"This has gone beyond stupid, Sam." he said quietly.  
  
"I'm sorry Blair," she said "I apologize. I didn't know what else to do and I couldn't sit still."  
  
"Sorry may not be enough here, Sam," he said, shaking his head. "If the Mounties decide to arrest you, there isn't a thing I can do to stop it. And besides." he shook his head, looking sadly at her. "Sometimes, sorry isn't enough to rebuild broken trust." The look he gave her went straight to the core. Something deep moved behind his eyes. She knew he knew exactly what he spoke of. It cut her to the quick. She suddenly felt something inside of her begin to crack. Blair could see it as her chin began to tremble.  
  
"I'm sorry, Blair," she whispered, moving away from him. "I'll go get the keys." she stopped, teetering again. He frowned, standing upright. Sam had turned an alarming shade of grey.  
  
"I'll." she said, blinking. "I'll go get." Blair watched her eyes roll up into the back of her head. He barely had time to move as she fell. He caught her by the arms as she pitched past him, causing him to drop to one knee, cushioning her as she went down.  
  
"Sam?" he said, pulling her hair away. Her back to him, he held her awkwardly with one arm. He saw the beginnings of a slowly growing bloodstain on the back of her shirt, high up, near the neckline. He pulled the collar down, and swore.  
  
The gauze pads were soaked through.  
  
South Pitt Island, Friday Morning.  
  
Jim dropped his head, rubbing at his tired eyes, and shifted at the rocking of the RCMP power cruiser. He definitely wasn't used to three hours of sleep at night, any more. Rolling his head to loosen the kinks, he crossed his arms again and continued studying the scenery around him.  
  
At the helm, Eric Olssen feathered the throttles as they began to weave in and out of islets and stacks, having left Kitimat before dawn to go and search Pitt Island. He had spent most of the night filling in the detective from Cascade on all the details they had gleaned so far from the explosion of the Denali. He then brought him up to speed on what they had on Dr. Howard Ritter. He had also had ample time to study this man who was standing out on the aft deck in his jeans and leather jacket, and he was left with a huge question mark.  
  
Ellison's military background was stamped so firmly on him that he could have been the poster boy for recruiters. He stood a few inches taller, was a little older and had receding brown hair that he kept neatly smoothed back. Definitely in his prime, he exuded strength and confidence. He even had the jaw and chin of those old classic TV military gunnies, Olssen remembered watching as a kid. Come to think of it, Olssen unsuccessfully smothered his smirk, he reminded him of Capt. Stern from the old animated Heavy Metal movie. Only Stern had turned out to be the bad guy. Olssen knew instinctively and quickly that if any bad guy got on the wrong side of Detective Ellison. he suddenly felt sorry for Samantha McClennen.  
  
Olssen shook his head. Ellison had grilled him particularly hard on her and the imp in him lay panting from exhaustion at having had to work overtime to keep Sam's gender a secret. Call it what you will, Olssen definitely wanted to get one over on his American counterpart, particularly after what had occurred with Ellison's boss. He smiled to himself; he couldn't wait to see this encounter.  
  
There were a few things, though, that didn't quite sit right with him. Those eyes for one thing. Ellison had the strangest blue eyes of anyone he had met and they should have been registered at the border as a weapon. Several times he had been pinned by them during the course of the evening. Together they had come up with an interesting picture of Howard Ritter and a somewhat disturbing one of Sam McClennen Still, Olssen's instincts rarely had proven him wrong. He didn't think she had anything to do with the explosion, even to the point of not mentioning her as a survivor to the media. So far as the world knew, everyone on the Denali was dead. However, Ellison thought otherwise. Just watching Ellison's hard, cold, stoicism and listening to what the man said; anyone messing with Ellison's partner had better have some damned good insurance coverage.  
  
Then there was this partnership, Sandburg and Ellison? Partners? He couldn't think of two people more diametrically opposed. Sandburg obviously wasn't one of your typically molded cookie-cutter cops. Ellison was.and then some. The two as partners? That left Olssen scratching his head, mentally. And then he had witnessed something particularly strange. Ellison had asked to see some of the debris from the Denali. It had only just come back to him from the main headquarters in Prince Rupert that some form of plastic explosive had been used to blow the Denali out of the water. He hadn't even mentioned it to Ellison when the detective walked into the evidence room. Ellison had only just walked in the door, wrinkled his nose in disgust, and said that Sandburg was right in his hunch about C4 being used.  
  
The Mounties had traced the C4's purchase to the Denali's cook, Mark Settle. Something very strange for a man with a string of minor offences to be purchasing.but how on earth could Ellison just walk in and smell the stuff? Pushing the question, Ellison simply muttered he'd been around it far too much and that one of his friends was a former Captain for the Cascade PD Bomb Squad. After that the man had turned into a beached clam at low tide so far as personal matters were concerned. Olssen sighed. This whole case was getting wilder by the minute.  
  
"Ellison, " he said breaking the silence. "That was Hartley Bay we just passed back there. Dead ahead is Squally Channel, Gil Island is on our left. We'll be going by one of the marine parks in a minute or two, might want to see if the Sundogs is amongst them. It's kind of a compact racer. All white, has chrome railings all the way around her, white sails. The name is painted in pastel colors, and still has Washington State registry numbers on the bow." Jim nodded and shifted his position to gaze over the starboard side of the boat. Olssen had tried twice more to raise the vessel, to no avail.  
  
Presently, he had to slow as they entered the conjunction of several channels. Already a few sailboats and power yachts were getting underway. The Inside Passage was popular summer cruising, the winds being favorable amongst the many thousands of islands protecting the channels from the offshore currents and prevailing winds. Wending their way through them, Jim finally turned and joined Olssen at the helm.  
  
"Not there," he said folding his arms again, looking out the windows towards the bow. Olssen reached under the console and grabbed a pair of binoculars.  
  
"Here give these a try," he lifted them up, not looking at Jim as he maneuvered around a particularly large sloop just getting under sail. When he didn't take them Olssen looked up. Ellison was waving a few fingers at him, smiling mercurially.  
  
"They're not there," he said with finality. Olssen, about to protest, looked at him again, then shrugged. Ellison reminded him more and more of a particular favorite old gentleman he had become friends with amongst the Indian community. The man was as inscrutable as they came. Yet he could speak more with a look or a gesture than most gossips.  
  
"Can you see the land mass on the horizon?" he asked, squinting to see that far ahead.  
  
"Which one?" Jim asked, tipping his head slightly, peering intently ahead.  
  
"The big one to starboard or the smaller one to port?" Eric blinked and looked sharply at him. He hadn't been aware Ellison knew anything about sailing.  
  
"You can see both landmasses?"  
  
"Good eyes."  
  
"The one on the right is Pitt Island. We should be there in about an hour." He said and stuffed the binoculars away.  
  
"Anybody live there?"  
  
"Yeah, just loggers. It's Crown Land. Got to have permits to log it. Only has a small logging community to the north. Other than that the place is uninhabited."  
  
"Lot of old settlements up this way?" Ellison asked.  
  
"Old as in.?"  
  
"Native. Haida territory isn't it?"  
  
"Mostly. Lot of Tlingit and Tsimtsin too. The majority of Haida live over in the Charlotte islands further west of here."  
  
"Anything out here to attract an artifact collector like Ritter?"  
  
"Most of the old village sites are either protected or totally demolished. Only things that are really left out here in these parts are the totem poles and most of those are so big no one can move them. Even the smaller house poles would require several people to carry them. Don't know what could have attracted Ritter to Pitt. There's nothing there. The locals used to hunt there, sometimes got logs from it, but they never did anything special on it. It doesn't make a lot of sense to me why Ritter would be involved with the Denali out here on Pitt."  
  
"Other than research projects?"  
  
"Even that would have yielded something if they had found anything Native. You know as well as I do that three of the students were working on marine microclimates, the other was studying marine invertebrates and Ritter was just heading up all the research."  
  
"That was after McClennen was part of the team. What was he studying?"  
  
"Wasn't studying anything. McClennen specializes in rehabilitating recovered sea otters back into the wild. There was a joint effort going on that would reintroduce wild otters into parts of Canada where they had gone extinct. That project had ended and McClennen had accepted a job down in Cascade. The rest you know."  
  
"What job?" Jim asked.  
  
"Job?"  
  
"What job did McClennen take?" He looked at Olssen. Olssen frowned a little then grinned and shrugged.  
  
"Never actually said."  
  
"Kind of curious don't you think?"  
  
Olssen chuckled. "McClennen's curious all right." Jim glanced at him. All night long, and even now, Olssen acted like he was hiding something. Jim's mouth flat-lined, whatever it was had begun to irritate him, and he was plenty annoyed already.  
  
"You really think something serious has happened to Sandburg?"  
  
"You don't know my partner," Ellison clipped. "He has a target plastered on his back."  
  
"So how did he end up becoming a cop?" When Ellison didn't reply, Olssen glanced at him and saw that odd quicksilver smile on the detective's features.  
  
"Let's just say he become one out of self defense." Olssen raised a curious eyebrow. What kind of an answer was that?  
  
The Sundogs  
  
The sound of a frustrated male voice brought her reluctantly to wakefulness.  
  
"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon." She groaned and turned her head away, but a gentle hand on her face turned it back. Frowning, she tried to bat the hand away and moaned as a wave of pain shot down her arm.  
  
"Sammy?" the voice asked sounding both worried and annoyed. "Open your eyes Sam!" She turned her head away, only to have it turned back again.  
  
"Nooo." she groaned and wondered if the croak she just heard belonged to her.  
  
"Yes! Open your eyes. C'mon, Sammy, open your eyes. Wake up." The voice cajoled, the hand now lightly tapping the side of her face. She moaned again, drifting off. She knew she was in her bed, buried under her blankets, and feeling like she'd lost a fight with a two by four.  
  
"Do not go back to sleep, Sam. Wake up!"  
  
She heard herself mumble something in return, but couldn't make out the words. She just wanted to crawl back down into the well of blackness and forget she ever existed.  
  
"You are not funny! C'mon, you little pig-headed mule. Wake up," the hand batted at her face a little harder.  
  
"Go away." she muttered and forced her eyes open. Early morning sunlight lit the interior of the boat.  
  
"Trust me, I want to!" The other responded, sarcastically. Sam blinked her eyes into focus and stared at her cousin, baffled.  
  
Blair sat on the bed next to her, his hand planted on the pillow by her head. He looked at her intently. She gazed at him with confusion, then she remembered.  
  
"Oh sh..." she moaned, reaching up slowly to rub at her eyes, turning her head away. Blair's hand turned it back to face him. Her eyes flew open, as she started to glare, only to be stopped by the suddenly hard look in his eyes.  
  
"What happened?" she croaked hoarsely.  
  
"You passed out. Here," he reached down on the floor and grabbed a glass of orange juice he had set there. Awkwardly, he helped her to sit up, taking pains not to touch her back or shoulders. The groan issuing from her testified to the toll she had punished them with the day before. Sam grabbed at the blankets, holding them to her as she realized most of her clothes were missing. She eyed Blair, gingerly taking the glass from him.  
  
"Drink it all," he said when she paused after the third gulp. She lifted an eyebrow.  
  
"Can I breathe?" she asked.  
  
"Don't give me any crap, Sam!" he growled.  
  
"Take a chill pill, Blair." She shot back, downing the juice.  
  
"I'll take a chill pill when you tell me where the hell you hid those damn padlock keys!" He sharply retorted. Sam stopped drinking in mid swallow. Her eyes had focused on the salon. It looked like a small hurricane had gone off inside the boat.  
  
"What the." she started, her kaleidoscopic eyes growing huge.  
  
"Drink!" Blair snapped. She stared at him.  
  
"What did you do to my boat?!" she snapped back.  
  
"I've been looking for the keys, Sam! Now get that juice inside of you before I force it down." Blair reached behind him, and hauled out a set of handcuffs from off his belt. He dangled them off one finger. "And don't even think for a second I won't do it." She stared at the cuffs a fraction of a second and then at him. All he did was raise a warning finger at her as she began to retort. The look in his eyes brooked no argument. She finished off the glass, looking at him the entire time.  
  
"Didn't find them, did you?"  
  
"Sam.." He growled. The corners of her lips curled in a way that reeked of mischief.  
  
"Never were able to find anything I hid from you." The glass was abruptly snatched out of her hand.  
  
"Where are they?" he demanded. Sam shook her head.  
  
"Take it easy, grouch. They're in the hub of the wheel."  
  
"If my hunch is right, Sammy, you're gonna have a worse grouch to deal with than me." Blair snapped back as he lurched off the bed and blazed his way out of the cabin. Sam shook her head, stopped quickly at the response it got from her shoulders and looked out at the wreckage of her boat.  
  
With difficulty, she swung her legs to the floor, biting her lip to keep from groaning out loud. Just that effort made her stop as she sat on the edge of her bed, shaking like a leaf. Outside she could hear Blair wrestling with the padlock, grumbling something under his breath. She glanced at the disarray inside the cabin and sighed. She really didn't have the strength to get upset and besides, it was her fault. Waiting only until she felt she could, Sam stood up shakily, wrapped the blanket around her, gathered a few clothes, and stumbled her way to the head.  
  
Making an attempt at looking half way decent, she could hear her cousin in a heated debate with whoever was on the other end of the cell phone. It made her curious, as he kept referring to the person as both Simon, then Captain. From the sounds of the call, it was a decidedly one way conversation, which Blair was losing. Captain?  
  
Trembling, she buttoned her jeans, then sat on the toilet and started in on the camp shirt she had tugged on over her sorely punished shoulders. Blair Sandburg, a cop? The non-conformist working for the establishment? Her mind rebelled at the thought. The badge, the handcuffs, and now he was actually referring to someone as Captain? It was too weird to be true, yet she knew deep down in her heart that Blair wouldn't lie to her. She paused, battling away a wave of nausea, then reached for a hairbrush. Whatever happened to Blair's research on his beloved Sentinels? Her brain worried over that like a dog with a sock toy. His studies on heightened senses had been his passion for as long as she had known him. What had happened to cause him to abandon his pursuit of his Ph.D. and choose to go into police work? She chewed on her lip again as she tugged on her curls with the brush. Maybe when this Denali mess settled down she'd find out. Sam heaved a sigh, dropping her head wearily. She didn't want to think about the Denali anymore.  
  
She shoved herself up, hating how rubbery her legs felt, as she heard Blair ending his conversation. She met him at the steps leading to the cockpit as he came back into the salon, looking highly peeved. He froze when he saw her dressed and upright.  
  
"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded.  
  
"Standing up?" she replied.  
  
"Uh-uh! No way!" Blair snapped, juggling the cell phone to his other hand. He grabbed her gently under her forearm and propelled her foreword, back towards the berth.  
  
"You are going down. You are going to stay down and you are probably going to go down for a whole lot more once my boss gets his hands on you!"  
  
"Blair!" she exclaimed, stumbling over his pack on the floor.  
  
"Sit!" he ordered, forcing her to do just that. He held up his finger as he fumbled for the phone. "Stay!" Sam could only glare at him in return. Blair stabbed the auto-dial on the phone and lifted it to his ear, watching her. A fraction later he scowled, realizing the boat's interior was interfering with the call.  
  
"You stay put!" he warned, spinning on his heel and heading back up to the cockpit. She promptly ignored him.  
  
RCMP Cruiser,  
  
Olssen slowed the boat as they entered the Principe Channel, then spent the next several minutes showing Jim the inlet that the Denali had sunk in. A quick cruise into the interior provided nothing, even to a Sentinel using his eyes and ears to best effect. The research vessel had been anchored at the mouth of the inlet, nearest the channel entrance and Estevan Sound. He explained how that particular area was rather deep, making dives to the wreckage tricky. Jim silently studied the marker buoys left behind and lifted his eyes to scan the surrounding islands and coves. Other than the markers, only the occasional rainbow slick of fuel shimmering on the surface of the water indicated the presence of a ship.  
  
Jim sighed. Even scanning as he could, he had come up with nothing to reveal his partner's where-abouts. He looked around again, studying the rocks, the tree line, anything. Olssen glanced at him.  
  
"Shall we try further up the Channel?"  
  
"Sounds good to me." Jim replied. As Olssen began to throttle up the engines, the cell phone buried in Jim's coat pocket suddenly chirped to life. Fumbling for it, he hauled it out, stabbing at the receive button.  
  
"Ellison!" he barked, looking at Olssen with a frown.  
  
"Jim!" a very familiar voice sounded in his ear.  
  
"Sandburg! Where the hell are you?"  
  
"Whoa, Jim, calm down, I'm fine, I'm fine! Irritated, annoyed, and mad as hell, but fine!"  
  
"You're not the only one who is going to be mad as hell if there isn't a damn good explanation behind all this, Junior!" Jim snapped, half- angry and half-relieved.  
  
"Look, I've already dealt with one pissed off superior while trying to call you! I just got to a phone! You want an explanation to this you can deal with my illustrious cousin! As for me? I'm fine, thank you very much, not one scratch to prove otherwise. Now where the hell are you?" Blair snapped back. On his end, Jim suddenly turned from Olssen's surprised, inquisitive eyes and buried his own smirk. Sandburg was pissed off.  
  
"We're at the South end of Pitt Island. Mind explaining to me why I had to leave in a hurry and come searching for your ass?"  
  
"South end of Pitt Island? Jim, we're practically on top of one another!" Blair replied, relief evident in his voice. Jim immediately went on alert. "Where exactly are you?"  
  
"Haniak Inlet. We're at the site of the Denali sinking. Olssen's with me."  
  
"Eric?" Blair chuckled. "He's gonna love this! Listen we're just north of you. Maybe a mile or two. Just get here."  
  
Jim turned looking at Olssen "He says they're a mile or so up the channel." He lifted his chin, indicating the direction. Olssen nodded in response and throttled up.  
  
"Sandburg? You had better have a good story behind this one." Jim growled, straining his hearing to see if he could pick up his partner without the phone. He had to quickly filter out the sound of the boat and the waves.  
  
"Jim, I have been locked in a cabin for over 16 hours then stuck on a boat that has been expertly sabotaged. It took even longer than that to get my cell phone back! You want explanations? You can grill my cousin. I'm not in any mood to put up with your bullsh**." Jim really had to fight against the smile threatening to lighten his features. Blair mad was a good thing, it meant he wasn't hurt. Locked in a cabin for 16 hours? Someone was going to pay for messing with his partner.  
  
"Locked in a cabin?" Jim asked, trying to keep him talking. Olssen suddenly began to chuckle, shaking his head. Jim raised a curious eyebrow at him.  
  
"Since dawn yesterday." Blair replied, "Sam has some half-cocked idea that one of the men on the research vessel didn't go down with it in order to raid artifacts off the Island." Jim turned from Olssen again, pulling the phone away from his ear slightly.  
  
"Keep talking, Chief." Jim murmured into the phone. There was a pause then Blair replied with a chuckle.  
  
"Yeah right Jim, want me to disconnect?"  
  
"Go for it, you can always call back."  
  
"Wouldn't want to get the natives suspicious." Blair managed to crack back.  
  
"How exactly did you end up locked in the cabin, Chief?" Jim asked, turning back towards Olssen, his eyes scanning along the starboard side of the boat. "And where is your cousin now?"  
  
"Better still be in the foreword berth." Blair growled in annoyance. "As for getting locked in? Let's skip it shall we?"  
  
"Ah ah!" Jim quickly replied. "We agreed not to keep stuff from one another, remember? I want to know everything and why it's taken you over 24 hours to get back your phone."  
  
"Jim, I am not, repeat not, going to go over it again! Like I said, you want answers? Ask Sam."  
  
"We're close, Chief." Jim replied. Olssen glanced at him and saw a funny distracted look on Ellison's face. His head was tipped slightly and he had the phone away from his ear. "Keep talkin', bud, tell me why it's taken so long to get to a phone?"  
  
On the Sundogs, Sam glanced out the cabin door at Blair standing in the cockpit. He abruptly began waving both arms in annoyance, a manner very familiar with him.  
  
"Why did it take so long to get to my phone? Sam had it locked in the storage hold and hid the damn keys!" He said out loud. Sam frowned, watching him. The cell phone was in one hand and being waved furiously along with the other. Why was he talking into the air? He was pacing in frustration and looking anxiously past the bow.  
  
"It's taken me this long to get the keys, so I call your cell phone and who do I get? Simon! And he's pissed off! What'd'you do in the Martinez trial, anyway?" There was a pause as he spun away then savagely disconnecting the phone and stuffed it back onto it's holder on his belt. "And for you're information, smart ass, I was not trying to divert the conversation onto something else! Besides I can hear your boat coming, and I still have three days to get to Cascade! You didn't have to come running up here, you know? I am handling things just fine without you!"  
  
Sam stared. Blair's normally running conversations were one thing, but to be talking like that when no one was there? She suddenly picked up the sounds of another boat and turned away, staring at the interior that still looked like a wreck.  
  
"Sh**," she muttered. She glanced down at the paddle now resting on the Starboard bunk amongst Blair's belongings and bedding, along with nearly everything from the overhead cupboard. Olssen and, apparently, Blair's partner were rapidly approaching. She felt a suddenly burst of fear.  
  
"I see you, Jim." Blair said, moving to port as he faced the bow. He raised a hand as Olssen slowed at the mouth of the secluded cove. Within minutes the cruiser was slowly drawing alongside the sailboat. Blair flipped a set of padded bumpers over the side to protect the boats from scraping one another.  
  
"Mornin' Sandburg." Eric called out, grinning at him. Jim just stood aft, his eyes taking in the boat and his partner.  
  
"This had better be good." Jim growled as Blair secured a line to the cruiser.  
  
"Don't start in on me now!" Blair replied testily. Jim snorted slightly, making ready to transfer to the other boat. As he did he glanced around the cove, his eyes still scanning for anything suspicious. Momentarily he thought he caught sight of a dull flash of silver amongst the rocks in a shade-darkened nook further in the cove. He shelved it and turned back to the situation at hand.  
  
Climbing aboard the Sundogs he took Blair by one arm and turned him to face him.  
  
"Jim!" Blair protested.  
  
"Humor me." Jim clipped, scrutinizing his partner. Other than looking like he needed a shave and a good sleep, and obviously frazzled, he was in remarkably good shape. Even after being AWOL for 24 hours. The puzzlement that briefly lit Jim's eyes caused Blair to sigh, his mouth setting in a smirk.  
  
"Satisfied?" he retorted.  
  
"Nope." Jim said straightening, he turned towards the cabin door. "Where is he?"  
  
"He who?" Blair asked, as Jim grasped the cabin latch. Jim frowned, shooting a quick look back as he jerked the door open.  
  
"Your cousin." Ellison replied, turning back. He entered the salon.  
  
"This oughta be good." Olssen said, joining Blair in the cockpit of the Sundogs. He looked like the cat that just ate the canary, the grin on his face threatening to break out into a smile. Blair looked at him in confusion, then at Jim as he descended into the cabin.  
  
"Oh no." Blair groaned, burying his face in one hand. "He doesn't know." he sucked in a deep breath of air, running his hand down his face. He started after him.  
  
Ducking his head, the first thing Ellison noticed was the total chaos inside the boat. Gaining the floor he was surprised to find that the headroom inside the cabin gave him almost two inches of clearance. He straightened, his eyes landing on the second thing inside the boat. Staring back at him, looking almost as surprised as himself, was a girl.  
  
Sam was the first to blink. A total stranger had entered her cabin. He stared down at her with the most unusual, most piercing, blue eyes of anyone she'd ever seen and as cold as a December Arctic front. He was huge, compared to her, and radiated strength and power. He also, by the set of his squared, clenched jaw, looked torqued.  
  
"You're Sam McClennen?" he asked, his voice low and to the point. Sam couldn't help but notice a distinct military stamp about him. She blinked again. The corners of her mouth barely twitched.  
  
"I'm certainly not the Avon Lady." She replied and instantly regretted it. The man moved with cat-like quickness. Unable to react, she suddenly found two large fists grabbing the front of her shirt, lifting her up, and shoving her backwards. The eyes bored into hers, his face inches away.  
  
"Do not," he snarled. "Mess with me!" He pinned her to the wall. All Sam could comprehend was a tidal wave of pain and a grey fog clouding her vision. She sucked in an agonized gasp of air, feeling her body go limp in the man's hands. Reaction set in. Bringing her hands up to his chest, she pushed as hard as she could, to no avail. Jim shifted, scraping her already raw and painful back against the bulkhead. She whimpered, just before losing consciousness. Surprised, Jim let go and she dropped like a rock to the deck. He paused, a frown of confusion crossed his features and he focused his senses on her. That brief lull was enough for someone to grab his arm and pull him back. Blair appeared in his vision, slipped by him and knelt down to check on the girl, then he rose and faced him.  
  
Left hand gripping Jim's arm, the other raised motioning him back, index slightly extended, Blair gazed into the face of his partner.  
  
"Back off, man," he warned in a tone of voice Jim recognized as one that meant serious business. His ears caught a low agonized moan from the girl behind Blair. Sandburg gently pushed Ellison backwards. "Just back off, Jim."  
  
"Sandburg, I."  
  
"Jim, you can interrogate her all you want, as long as you want, but she's got injuries, man. No manhandling!" Motioning Jim to stay put, Blair turned back to his cousin. Realization, along with a jolt from his memory, crept up on Ellison as he watched Blair help the girl up. Her legs refused to support her.  
  
"Here." he said, moving in to help as he felt the sting of regret.  
  
"Jim, just back off." Blair warned, catching Sam as she sagged against the wall. Gently, he took her weight in his arms, turning her towards the berth. Under her breath, Sam, struggling against the threatening fog, gasped,  
  
"Blair, get that son-of-a-bitch off my boat!"  
  
"That son-of-a-bitch, is my partner and you are getting everything you deserve!" Blair hissed back in her ear as she gripped his arms, trying to stay upright.  
  
"Getting slammed into a wall?" She gasped, collapsing on the bed. Her eyes screwed shut in agony.  
  
"You messed with him, and me for that matter. He's a little overprotective and you are on his sh** list!" Blair growled, catching her legs and swinging them onto the bed. "Besides that, I told you to stay put!"  
  
"Just get him off my boat!" she hissed. She felt the pillow shift and managed to open her eyes enough to see Blair, both hands planted on either side of her head, staring down at her.  
  
"Listen and listen good," he warned. "You do exactly as he says, you don't back-talk him and you answer everything he asks. No bullsh**! And when he's done, he's gonna look you over. He's an Army medic, Sam. Am I getting through that incredibly dense skull of yours?"  
  
"That Neanderthal is not touching me!" she hissed. Blair's hand clamped over her mouth.  
  
"Sam! Am I making myself clear?" he growled at her. She stared back at him, then heaved a sigh. Blair waved a finger of warning at her.  
  
"I'll be right back." He let her go. Sam closed her eyes, giving in to the sudden wave of exhaustion trying to engulf her.  
  
In the cabin Blair took Jim's arm, turned him around and motioned him to head back out into the cockpit. Eric, grinning still, made his way down the steps after they emerged and surveyed the mess inside the salon. He chuckled to himself and headed for the berth.  
  
"Ground rules, man!" Blair snapped as soon as they emerged on deck.  
  
"What?" Jim snapped back, turning to glare down at the shorter man. He had heard every word they had spoken.  
  
"That's family in there." Blair said, looking Jim dead in the eyes. "If anyone is gonna kill her it's gonna be me! She locked me in that cabin, not you. I get first crack."  
  
"Sandburg.I got my ass chewed out by a federal Judge because of your propensity for finding trouble! Your cousin is at the eye of this storm! Who knows what's going on inside her head? And for that matter, why the hell didn't you tell me she was a girl?!"  
  
"My propensity for finding trouble?" Blair exploded. "Did I ask to get locked in that cabin? Did I ask to get hauled back to this Island? Did I make an ass out of myself before a federal Judge? I don't think so! As for what's going on inside her skull, I have a fairly good handle on that now! It's just a matter of sorting through all the pieces!" Blair's hands punctuated his words. Ellison was the opposite, he folded his arms across his chest and looked down at his partner, rigid and implacable.  
  
"And let's not forget your tendency to not tell me things shall we? I'm still finding it hard to believe you had a cousin attending college the same time you did! And you never mentioned a word about her? We've lived together how long now? Four years?"  
  
"Excuse me? My tendency not to tell you things? Who had a father and brother living in the same city, that not even the guys at work knew about? For what, 9 years? And you think I was being vague?! Get real Ellison! At least Sam wasn't living in Cascade before I met you!"  
  
"Sandburg, when this mess gets sorted out you and I are gonna go over that discussion we had about trust. And when I'm done.Your cousin and I are gonna go over the same conversation!"  
  
"Jim, I am not going to go over that with you, again! This whole trust issue is getting seriously old, seriously fast! And look who's talking anyway? Who keeps on using the department computers to run background checks on anyone I have any kind of dealings with?"  
  
"You can stop right there, Sandburg!" Ellison pounced, a feral smile ghosting on his lips. "This time I didn't do it. You don't believe me." He fished his cell phone out of his jacket and shoved it him. "You call Simon and ask."  
  
Blair, in full steam, suddenly blinked in surprise. Jim snorted softly and watched his partner; he knew Sandburg was only venting. Considering what the last 24 hours had held he certainly didn't blame him. He was enormously relieved that he was uninjured.  
  
"You're jumping to conclusions this time, Chief." Jim said, softly.  
  
"You didn't run her through the computers?" Blair asked, looking skeptical. Jim just shook his head. Blair's shoulders dropped in relief. "You didn't do it?" Jim smiled slightly and looked away.  
  
"Simon did it for you? Or Rafe, no Brown."  
  
"I wouldn't even let Simon do it." Jim said, looking back at him. The beginnings of a grin started on Blair's face.  
  
"Good," he said, "This is good, you wouldn't have found anything anyway."  
  
"However, now is a different story." Jim said, returning to the issue at hand. "Well, I might have found out Sam was a girl."  
  
"Now is a different story." Blair agreed, "Play lie detector for me will ya? I want at the bottom of this mess." Blair said, and jerked open the door to the cabin.  
  
"You want at the bottom of this? When this is all over, your cousin and I are gonna have a very long discussion."  
  
"Jim, so long as I'm nowhere around when you do, you can discuss anything you like with her for however long you want!"  
  
"Watch it, Chief, I just might hold you to that." Jim warned.  
  
In the cabin they found Olssen standing in the salon inspecting the paddle. He glanced up as both men entered.  
  
"Where'd this come from?" He asked Blair. Blair tapped the toe of his foot on the hold underneath him as Jim paused on the stairs.  
  
"Sam's always hidden a .22 rifle in the hold. She says it vanished along with her dinghy the day the Denali blew up. She strapped that in the place where she hides the rifle. It's why you didn't find it." he said, nodding his head at the paddle.  
  
"This thing is old." Olssen said, lifting it. "And I searched in there."  
  
"Velcro on the ceiling." Blair replied. Olssen raised an eyebrow, curious.  
  
"Why does she carry a twenty-two?" Jim asked, moving Blair aside.  
  
"Mostly for sharks. You sometimes hook 'em out here and they can be tough to kill. Uncle Alan always kept one on deck."  
  
"She does know it's illegal to carry one over international boundaries?" Olssen said, looking severely at Blair.  
  
"I'm sure she does. She's had it for years."  
  
"What's this about the dinghy missing?" Olssen inquired, looking back down at the paddle.  
  
"Sam wasn't on it. It vanished before the explosion. She swam back to the Sundogs." Olssen looked up at Blair, sharply.  
  
"Vanished?" Olssen demanded. Blair smiled and nodded towards the bow.  
  
"Let's ask her."  
  
All three looked towards the berth.  
  
Sam groggily opened her eyes when she felt Blair shove her legs aside to sit down. She glanced at Olssen as he sat across from her. He leaned foreword, laced his fingers as he rested his elbows on his knees, and smiled wolfishly. Ellison literally filled the berth doorway, crossed his arms and looked down at her. He reminded her of an iceberg.  
  
"Looks like you dug yourself a real deep hole, McClennen." Eric said. Sam snorted slightly, closing her eyes.  
  
"I can never dig one deep enough," she muttered. Blair closed his eyes and sighed. Jim, meanwhile, nudged his hearing up, filtering out their combined heartbeats and concentrating solely on hers as he scrutinized her face, searching for perspiration. He took a step forwards, reached out and caught her chin in his hand.  
  
"Let's set a few rules here." He growled, as her eyes flew open in surprise. Blair's hand landed on Jim's wrist as Sam jerked back into her pillow.  
  
"Jim!"  
  
"Shelve it, Sandburg." Jim said, his eyes never leaving Sam's.  
  
"I am in no mood for any crap from you," he said, flatly. "He's gonna ask the questions." he nodded at Olssen. "And you are going to answer. Am I making myself clear?" Sam barely nodded her head, still trying to make herself as small as she possibly could. The smile he gave her could have frozen a lake. "Good. Remember this, too." He held up a warning finger. "One lie and I'll know about it. I've been through enough interrogations to where I know all the tricks. Understand?" Again, Sam nodded. Jim glared a moment longer, then let her go, standing back and folding his arms. Blair shot a look up at him, shook his head, and looked back at his cousin. He shrugged, giving her an 'I-told-you-so' look. She let out a sigh, then glanced at Olssen, with his Cheshire cat grin.  
  
"Where would like me to start?" she asked.  
  
If anything, she was thorough. By the time Olssen finished, Sam had filled in the majority of gaps in the profile of a slick, professional, grave robbing, artifacts collector. She recounted the entire story of her involvement with him, how she had left him and how she had come to be aboard the Denali in its final few hours. She told of her suspicions of Ritter being alive, and why she believed Blair's presence was needed to help with identifying the source of Ritter's latest finds. She then explained why she was currently parked on the backside of Pitt Island.  
  
All during the conversation, Blair watched as a kind of catharsis took place in his cousin. He sensed the release of a heavy burden and it left her feeling drained and exhausted. Jim noticed it too.  
  
"You know, don't you, that being in possession of a firearm in our territorial waters is illegal?" Olssen asked as they began to wind down. Sam nodded, her eyes closed.  
  
"Yes, but at the moment I am not in possession of it."  
  
"You discovered it missing when?"  
  
"When I returned to the Sundogs after eating dinner on the Denali, the night before it blew up. I realized Howard might have gotten to it because he left the galley before anyone else did. There was plenty of time for him to get my boat, get the rifle, and leave."  
  
"And you really think he wasn't on board the Denali when it exploded?"  
  
"How else would my dinghy have gone missing? When I discovered it gone after the argument he had with Sam Tsa' Che', I knew he wasn't aboard. And he knew I heard their fight."  
  
"You think he intended on taking you out too?"  
  
"I don't know." She sighed wearily. "It looks that way to me. I wouldn't put it past him to try and steal the Sundogs. He really liked sailing it. I didn't think he'd blow up a ship with six people on board, though. Look, at this point I don't know what to think." She looked at Olssen, the fatigue making her eyes look dark. Blair felt Jim's fingers flick his shoulders. Looking up at him, Jim nodded at Sam.  
  
"Sam, why didn't you tell us this from the beginning?" Eric asked. She didn't respond, she just looked at Olssen, then Ellison.  
  
"I." she stammered, and glanced at Blair.  
  
"She doesn't trust anyone." Blair replied for her. "Just Mom and me."  
  
"And Naomi's a little hard to get a hold of." She added, her voice barely above a whisper.  
  
"No one?" Olssen asked, skeptically.  
  
"It goes way back, Eric." Blair explained. "It's why she probably drove you nuts insisting you call me."  
  
"Well, that was a little strange." The Mountie admitted.  
  
"No doubt it's a family thing." Jim remarked, dryly. He looked at Olssen, a thin conspiratorial smile on his lips. "I think you just entered into the Sandburg Zone, Olssen."  
  
"Gee thanks, Jim." Blair replied, pointedly.  
  
"Sandburg Zone?" Olssen asked, looking a tad confused.  
  
"It only gets weirder from here." Jim promised. "Blair?" he nodded again at Sam who had closed her eyes again, looking grey.  
  
"Sam?" He reached out, taking her hand. She cracked one eye open at him.  
  
"Jim's a medic, he needs to take a look at your back."  
  
"Oh, Blair." She groaned. "Right now I think I just want to sleep."  
  
"A medic?" Olssen asked looking up at Jim as he backed up out of the berth to let Blair out.  
  
"Army."  
  
"He isn't touching me." she barely managed to whisper.  
  
"Sam." Blair warned. She looked up at him as he stood. "You can sleep all you want after he looks at your back."  
  
"I don't want some meatball surgeon touching me!" she hissed.  
  
"Medic, Sam, not surgeon." Blair replied as he let Olssen out. "And you aren't in a position to argue." Sam gazed sourly at him for a moment then sighed wearily.  
  
As Olssen went up to the cockpit, Blair helped Sam roll over onto her stomach, then gently helped tug her shirt down. He was dismayed to see more blood staining the pads he had replaced. Just the effort of moving drained her dwindling reserves even lower and she could only groan, sagging into her bed. Jim tapped him on the shoulder, nodding at him to move.  
  
"They give you any supplies?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah, I'll go get them." Blair said, moving out. Jim stood above her, looking down. His mouth barely twitched as he studied Blair's incredibly small cousin. There was no lying there, the hair and the height confirmed the familial resemblance between the two. He couldn't believe he'd picked someone up as small as this and slammed her into a wall. He closed his eyes briefly, and a girl, no less. He sighed and leaned over her. For a few brief moments Sam just drifted, until she felt a feather light touch on her neck.  
  
"Don't jump." Ellison's voice murmured as he moved aside her hair. Her eyes snapped open, while every muscle in her body tightened like high- tension wire.  
  
"I'm not going to hurt you." He quickly responded. He saw her jaw move as she clenched her teeth and her fingers clutched two fistfuls of blanket. She was trying to look back at him. The corner of her lip had turned white and he realized she was scared. He reached up, laying his fingers lightly on the side of her neck.  
  
"It's all right. I'm not going to hurt you," he repeated. "Just relax, I need to take a look at these wounds." He could feel her pulse racing under his fingertips. He set a firm hand on her shoulder and tugged off the bandages, pleased to note that Sandburg had done a top-notch job of dressing them.  
  
"It's okay Sam, just relax." He murmured, yet frowning in dismay at the network of stitching lacing her shoulders. Even more unsettling was the visibility of her ribcage. She was too skinny. Several of the deeper cuts had to have cut clear to the bone of her thin shoulders. Blood seeped slowly past the wounds. Jim's conscience pricked him, she was even smaller than he realized.  
  
"You've got some torn stitches here." He said, noting that the healing process had gone far enough to prevent him from being able to re-stitch. It would however leave bigger scars. "I'm gonna need to take them out."  
  
"How bad?" Blair asked setting a bag of medical supplies next to him and looking over his shoulder.  
  
"It's not too bad." He remarked, looking into the bag.  
  
"Find me a pair of fine scissors, some tweezers, and some alcohol."  
  
"You got it." Blair replied. As he searched, Ellison fished out the unopened bottles of prescriptions, noted the instructions, then set about cleaning her injuries. Sam remained as tight as an eight-day clock, although finally closing her eyes. Jim sighed, knowing part of the cause was himself.  
  
"Tell me about this new job you've taken in Cascade?" he asked, trying to lighten the mood. Her eyes instantly reopened.  
  
"More questions?" she muttered. Jim looked perplexed, pausing in his task.  
  
"Just thought I'd ask."  
  
"I'm not in the mood for chit-chat." She replied, her voice sounding tired.  
  
"Suit yourself." He responded, going back to his ministrations. She sucked in a gasp of air as he hit a tender spot.  
  
"Watch it!" she snapped, tightening up even more.  
  
"Don't jump." He admonished. "If you'd relax a little this wouldn't hurt as much."  
  
"You're not on the receiving end." She snarled back. Small or not, she was definitely beginning to push his buttons.  
  
"How about you just tell me what this job is anyway?" he replied gruffly.  
  
"What's my taking a new job in Cascade got to do with the Denali?" she instantly replied.  
  
"Do you always answer a question with a question?"  
  
"Are you always such a jerk? What the hell is Blair doing partnered with a grunt like you?"  
  
A very large hand slapped into the bulkhead inches from her face, causing Sam to jump. Her eyes slammed shut at the pain, and she became aware of him looming over her, his own face directly over hers.  
  
"Remember what I said earlier?" he growled. "About not putting up with your crap?" Sam glared up at him, biting her lip, the corner of her mouth lifting in distaste.  
  
"You've messed with MY partner. I don't take too kindly to that. He's the best partner I've ever had, and I don't give a rat's ass if you're his cousin or not. You mess with him like you have one more time and I will, personally, deal with you. Am I making myself clear?" She didn't respond. The hard spin in his strange blue eyes took on an extra intensity.  
  
"Am I making myself clear?" he repeated slower and more menacingly. She nodded. He smiled coldly.  
  
"Good, now answer my question."  
  
For a long pause she said nothing as he withdrew, then she swallowed uneasily.  
  
"Assistant director." She whispered.  
  
"Of what?" he asked, setting supplies around them.  
  
"Rehabilitation."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"The new Aquarium."  
  
Jim frowned, recalling something about the Cascade waterfront having spent millions to build a new Aquarium. It wasn't even finished yet.  
  
"It's still being built." He said flatly skeptical.  
  
"They're hiring staff."  
  
"When did you accept this position?"  
  
"Last month."  
  
"Who hired you?"  
  
"Dr. Achille Legault."  
  
Jim nodded, momentarily appeased. She hadn't been lying to any of them. Though her replies were anything but civil, she responded satisfactorily enough for him.  
  
For the next several minutes he tended to the wounds on her back. Sam remained tensed, said absolutely nothing, save the occasional groan when he had to do something painful. She only relaxed when he finally stopped and stood up. Blair had remained in the doorway, watching.  
  
"Okay Chief, finish up for me here, will ya? I need to talk to Olssen."  
  
"Sure," Blair said, swapping places.  
  
"Think maybe you can rustle up something to eat? That one needs something in her stomach before taking those pain meds."  
  
"This one needs something in her stomach, period." Blair replied, looking down at Sam. She only heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes.  
  
"I wouldn't mind something myself.kind of been missing your breakfasts lately." Jim replied, heading out into the salon. Blair snorted softly, smiling.  
  
"That's only because I've spoiled you." Jim's faint chuckle rolled back to him as he headed up to the cockpit. Sam turned her head slightly, trying to look back at her cousin.  
  
"You cook him breakfast?" she asked, incredulous. Blair sat next to her, tearing open a bandage.  
  
"He's my roommate, Sam." That stopped her completely. She sagged, her mouth opened slightly in shock.  
  
"Please, tell me your joking." She whispered. Blair smirked.  
  
"No joke, Sam."  
  
"Blair, he's unbearable! How'd you get mixed up with an ass like that?!"  
  
"Sam, you don't know him." He responded as he gently began to dress her wounds. "And you've done plenty in the last few minutes to piss him off for days. And you want to know something? I have to live with the guy, so guess who has to put up with him? You want to know something else?" She didn't reply and just slumped into the bed.  
  
"This time I'm not going to have to put up with it.You are."  
  
On deck, Olssen, who had reattached the receiver to the outside radio, looked at Ellison as he finished making a call to the detachment in Kitimat. Ellison rubbed at his tired eyes, heaved a sigh and stretched his back.  
  
"What's going through your mind, Detective?" The Mountie asked, smiling slightly as he hung the receiver up.  
  
"Is she always that difficult?"  
  
"I wouldn't know. I let Tracy, the Residential Nurse take first crack at her. We had quite the pool going on down at the rec hall to see who was gonna win. Hadn't had cat fights this good in years. She was vague in her answers when I interviewed her, but she's still telling me the same thing, just adding in the details." Ellison focused his blue eyes sharply on Olssen a moment, then shook his head and snorted softly. His counterpart definitely had a finely tuned, if strange, sense of humor.  
  
"Besides," Olssen continued, "Victims sometimes act a little defensive after a trauma. I thought giving her a few days to settle would bring it out of her." He smiled, folding his arms across his chest. "And it has."  
  
"What're your feelings on this situation?" Ellison asked, scanning the shoreline.  
  
"Sam? She's severely bent a few rules. And she's damned lucky I didn't find a rifle. I could think of a few things to throw at her. Sandburg, on the other hand, could go for kidnapping charges."  
  
"But?" Ellison prompted, shaking his head with a rueful smile.  
  
"My gut tells me she's still the victim here. Besides that, she's the only concrete solid witness we got to getting an arrest on Ritter. Arrest and conviction, if he's still alive. She's seen and heard enough. What do you think?"  
  
"She's not lying to us. I'd've known. She could use a few lessons in manners, though. As for Sandburg? He's the forgive and forget type and it is his cousin." Jim grumbled, his eyes catching the flash of dull silver again.  
  
"She seems to have tied up most of the loose ends, though it would have helped if she had told us this from the beginning." Eric commented and noticed an odd frown on Ellison's face. The detective was intently gazing at something on shore further back in the cove.  
  
"I would like to find that dinghy, the rifle, and Ritter if at all possible too." Olssen said, looking perplexed, he looked over his shoulder trying to discern what Ellison was looking at.  
  
"I think we can scratch the dinghy off the list." Ellison said, reaching behind him for the cabin door.  
  
"Eh?" Olssen asked.  
  
"I see it, lodged in the rocks under that grouping of cedars back there." He turned, opened the door and glanced inside. "Chief? Olssen and I will be right back, I think I just spotted your cousin's dinghy."  
  
"Where?" Olssen asked, still trying to make out what Jim saw.  
  
"It's there, trust me.How close can you get me to shore?"  
  
"I can beach the cruiser if I have to." Olssen said, straightening.  
  
"Hopefully you won't have to.just get me close enough to some rocks and I'll climb my way over." Ellison said. Olssen nodded and together both men climbed back on board the RCMP cruiser.  
  
Olssen finally spotted the dinghy as they drew closer. Maneuvering next to an outcropping of barnacle encrusted rocks, Jim scrambled off the cruiser and made his way around the cove. The detective had paused briefly to look around where the boat had been left, then shoved the little craft back into the water, jumped in and began to row it to the Sundogs. Olssen waited until Jim had climbed back on board the sailboat before carefully pulling back alongside it, in an effort not to create too much wave action. Ellison was waiting for him when he emerged on the cruiser deck and neatly retied the lines holding the two boats together.  
  
The smell of bacon and eggs wafted like a fine perfume through the air and both men realized just how hungry they actually were.  
  
"Lord, that smells good." Olssen commented as he climbed on board the Sundogs. Jim nodded, an anticipatory smile lighting his features.  
  
"Sandburg cooks a mean breakfast." he said, opening the cabin door. Inside both noticed that a significant dent had been made in the mess inside, and Blair had just finished stacking dishes in the sink.  
  
"Bout time you got back." he greeted. Jim glanced towards the berth. Sam had sat up and was cautiously picking through a small plate of scrambled eggs. Her eyes immediately met his, wary and cautious. He ignored her, turning his attention to Blair.  
  
"We found the dinghy." he commented glancing back at Samantha. Still watching him, she heard what he had said. The girl closed her eyes, set the plate down and sighed in relief.  
  
"Somebody hauled it ashore at the back of the cove." he added, watching as her shoulders dropped, the tension draining away.  
  
"How he spotted it I'm still trying to figure out." Olssen commented, his eyes drifting to one of three plates. Sam, meanwhile, shifted her plate to the other side of the berth while drawing the blanket around her legs up.  
  
"I'd suggest you finish that." Jim said, noting it was barely touched.  
  
"I'd suggest you get stuffed." she muttered under her breath, easing herself slowly down on the bed. Blair happened to be looking at Jim when she did. Jim's gaze flicked briefly at his partner, his head tipped, and a peculiar smile came over him. Blair's hand slapped into Jim's chest, seeing that Jim had heard something and was about to move.  
  
"I'll take care of it!" he hissed at Jim, blocking his path to the berth. Olssen frowned, perplexed.  
  
"Just grab a plate, Jim and go out on deck, we can talk out there." Blair was saying as he backed up towards the berth. Jim started to follow. Blair shook his head.  
  
"Just go on, Jim."  
  
"She say something?" Eric asked, helping himself to a plate and searching for a fork.  
  
"Nothing important." Blair said, turning from them both. Waiting until both men had disappeared back outside, Blair looked at Sam, shaking his head. She had lain back down.  
  
"Sam." he started.  
  
"Blair." she groaned. "I took the damn pills and I ate. What now?"  
  
"You barely touched the plate." Blair pointed out as she pulled the blankets up around her neck, wincing at the movement. She looked balefully at him.  
  
"A word of caution," he said. She closed her eyes and groaned again. "Watch what you say around Jim." She frowned.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Just watch what you say, Sammy."  
  
"Why? He got one of those hyped senses?" she grumbled.  
  
"In a manner of speaking." Blair said. She looked at him again, speculative and suspicious. Blair cut off her question.  
  
"Don't provoke him, all right? Just relax, will ya? Listen, try and finish that off. We'll see what we can come up with, now that the dinghy has been recovered."  
  
"I'm not hungry, Blair." she said softly, closing her eyes again.  
  
"Not eating is only gonna make you feel worse." he said, shaking his head.  
  
"I feel pretty lousy already." She muttered. Blair sighed.  
  
"Fine, suit yourself. But just remember this." he said as he took the berth door in his hand.  
  
"What?" she asked not opening her eyes.  
  
"Turn-about is fair play." He shut the door gently then threw the storm latches shut, locking her in. Inside he heard her let out a soft chuckle.  
  
"You're funny, Blair."  
  
"Think of it as being for your own protection." Blair replied, through the door. "You're gonna be out of it for a while anyway."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." she grumbled. Blair smirked slightly and turned away. As he got his plate to join the others, he spied the paddle and hauled that out on deck with him.  
  
In her berth, Sam, feeling the painkillers working on her, closed her eyes. Her thoughts drifted to Blair's comments and his extraordinary situation concerning Jim Ellison. Something didn't jibe there. She groggily dredged to mind what she had learned about her cousin in the span of the last 24 hours and began to compare it to what she knew about him from before. As she let herself relax a funny little suspicion began to sneak its way into her drug fogged brain. It wandered around aimlessly as she finally fell asleep.  
  
On deck, Jim was pointing out areas on the dinghy where Olssen should have a forensics team dust for prints. Blair shook his head slightly, eating at last, and amused that Jim had begun to slip into his 'take control' mode. However, he knew that Jim could see the fingerprints and his pointing out whose were whose was all the confirmation he needed. Olssen took it in stride, eagerly following everything Ellison pointed out. Blair meanwhile, occupied himself with a minute study of his own. He pulled his glasses out of his shirt pocket, laid the Haida paddle over his knees, and ate.  
  
It was old, he mused to himself as he slipped his specs on. His rough guess put the age around five or six hundred years. Blair studied the carvings, his eyes following the exquisite details. The paddle itself was scooped and ridged in places to aid in its use. The only part missing being the handle. Blair studied the splintered end, taking note of the grayed heartwood. Then he gazed thoughtfully at the bloody handprints nearly blending in with the color of the paddle.  
  
So much information had come his way concerning Sam and her involvement with the Denali that he hadn't been able to sort it all out. Now he had found a short period of time to process everything he had learned. He had been brought quickly up to speed by Olssen and Jim in regards to Howard Ritter and the different crewmembers.  
  
He was thinking along those lines, about Ritter and his obsession with Northwest Coastal artifacts, when his gaze drifted off the paddle to look out over the tree-shrouded cove. He was far enough away in his thoughts that he wasn't aware of either men until Jim lifted the paddle from off his lap.  
  
"What's going on in that head of yours, Chief?" Jim asked, setting his emptied plate next to Blair and hefting the paddle. He began to scrutinize it himself.  
  
"Just sortin' it all out."  
  
  
  
Jim's nose wrinkled slightly as he caught the smell of blood, among other things on the paddle.  
  
"This thing's been in the ground a while," he commented.  
  
"You getting that from the dirt crusted in the cracks or from something else?" Blair asked.  
  
"Bit of mildew, mostly just smells like dirt, and blood, and cedar," he murmured.  
  
"The blood is Sam's, where she grabbed it."  
  
"Looks Haida." Olssen said as he joined them. Blair nodded.  
  
"It is, and old too."  
  
"Any idea where it could have come from?" Olssen asked looking out over the cove.  
  
"Had to come from off this island somewhere." Blair said, setting his empty plate aside.  
  
"Couldn't have. The locals never stayed here long. Mostly they just came to get logs or game, but there were never any villages built here." Olssen frowned, shaking his head. "I've known the area for a good while now, too."  
  
"Were there any totem poles left on the island? Mortuary poles? House poles, anything like that?" Blair asked. Jim glanced at him, wondering where his partner was going.  
  
"Not that I recall." Olssen mused, thinking. "I could ask some of the fellas up at the logging camp. Most are native. Or I could get the detachment at Masset on Graham Island to ask some of the elders. Which isn't a bad idea. Let me call them up, see if I can't get you an answer. Why do you want to know?"  
  
"This thing has been buried." Blair said. "And I can't believe that an artifacts collector would blow up a shipload of people for only one broken paddle. There has to be more and there has to be something worth a lot of money to go to that kind of trouble." Blair suddenly trailed off, his thoughts careening down another path.  
  
"What?" Jim asked, seeing the look of dread that came over him.  
  
"Ask them if there was ever any history of the island being used as a burial ground too." Blair said. Olssen nodded.  
  
"Anything else?" Blair was looking out over the cove again.  
  
"Yeah." he said absently, his mind racing. "Has there been any seismic activity in the area?"  
  
"Seismic? Like earthquakes?" Jim asked. Blair nodded and looked at both men.  
  
"We get tremblers out here all the time. Latest was about 6 months ago. Hit about a 4 on the Richter scale. Not enough to do anything but bounce the furniture around." Olssen replied, looking at Blair curiously. "Why?"  
  
"We need to explore." Blair said, looking pointedly at Jim. "Ritter had to have found a site on this place somewhere."  
  
"But where?" Olssen asked, looking back over the cove.  
  
"That's what we need to find out from the elders." Blair said, scratching at his chin thoughtfully. "Ask them if any of their ancestors may have used this island as a burying place or a potlatch site."  
  
"Their ancestors?" Olssen looked back at Blair perplexed. "So far as we know they never did."  
  
"Ask them to go back further. Better yet ask them if any tragedies may have occurred here in the far past."  
  
"Have I entered this Sandburg Zone?" Olssen asked Jim, who was still going over the paddle.  
  
"You've been in it a while already!" Ellison replied smirking ever so slightly. "I think maybe you'd better explain some of that convoluted thinking there, Chief."  
  
"Several years back, over on the Olympic Peninsula there was a Makah site found that sent ripples all throughout the Archeological and Anthropological communities. It was called the Ozette dig, and yielded some of the most amazing and well preserved artifacts known on pre contact Makah Indians. I spend a few weeks one summer over on the site. That site is one of the biggest finds ever to be made on Pacific Northwest Coastal Indians. And one of the biggest finds this century.or last I should say." Blair rambled.  
  
"What do the Makah have to do with the Haida? They were traditional enemies." Olssen responded.  
  
"Oh no doubt there. It's just that for a modern archeological site its preservation was nothing short of miraculous."  
  
"How so?" Jim asked.  
  
"It was an entire village. The amount of artifacts found was enough to warrant the building of a museum on the Makah tribal lands to house, store, and preserve the stuff. It's mind boggling how much it yielded and what it told of the Makah as a people. Absolutely fascinating stuff!" Blair continued, warming up to his subject.  
  
"How could an entire village go undiscovered?" Eric suddenly asked, frowning.  
  
Blair smiled serenely.  
  
"The entire village had been buried by a mudslide."  
  
"The mud preserved everything." Jim said, sounding distant as he frowned in thought. "Seems I remember reading something about that."  
  
"They figure at that time, about 500 years ago, that either torrential coastal rains weakened the ridge above the village, or an earthquake semi-liquefied the ridge and it came down on the village."  
  
"Semi-liquefied?" Eric interjected.  
  
"Yeah, you know like when you've been on a construction site after a good rain? Remember messing around in the mud? Tapping it with your foot and making the mud worse? It turns to a puddle on top and the mud underneath it gets deeper? A good earthquake can get the same results as you tapping your foot on the mud. It liquefies. In this case, the theory goes that the ridge did the same thing and whoosh, down she came! One village, buried."  
  
"And how did they find this site again?" Jim asked. Blair grinned and bounced once on his toes.  
  
"Same reason. Another mudslide, only this time it exposed the site."  
  
"And you're thinking there is one here?" Olssen said, his voice low with growing excitement.  
  
"Might want to see if there was a lot of rain activity out here six months ago." Jim said.  
  
"And where was Ritter at that time?"  
  
"Where was your cousin?" Jim abruptly asked, looking at Blair.  
  
"If what she says about the rehabilitation project is right, she'll have been at the rehab facilities for the University of Alaska. Winter is when sea otters have their pups, any abandoned pups would go there, to Seattle, or to Monterey."  
  
"Didn't she say she was returning them to the wild somewhere along the B.C. coast?" Jim asked.  
  
"That would have started in the Spring, when the seas grew a little calmer. In her case it was an ongoing project, to see if rehabilitated otters had made it through their first winter at the new site."  
  
"She was involved with Ritter during that time wasn't she?" Olssen asked.  
  
"Involved, but getting out of it." Blair pointed out. Jim looked thoughtful a moment.  
  
"We need to clarify that." He glanced at the cabin door. "When she wakes up."  
  
"We also need to check out this island." Blair added.  
  
"Tell you what." Jim looked at Olssen. "See if you can't find any of that information that Blair needs from the other detachment, then head North to the loggers camp and see what they might know."  
  
"Was planning on doing that, I want to know if they have seen Ritter and if maybe he has another boat. The more I think about it and his past history, the more I feel inclined to believe that your cousin is right. He's not dead."  
  
"Meanwhile, you and I can see what we can find on this island." Jim mused looking at the surrounding trees.  
  
South Pitt Island, Friday Afternoon  
  
It wasn't too much longer afterwards that Jim and Blair watched from shore as Eric cruised out into the Principe Channel, heading North. It had taken them several minutes to convince the Mountie that they wouldn't get lost, that Jim was an excellent tracker, and that they would take a few provisions. They secured the dinghy in a different location from where it had been found, in the hopes of throwing off anyone who might come looking for it. The day was gorgeous, sunny, and warm. The surrounding intoxicating fragrance of the old forest mingled with the aroma of the sea. The effects proving to be rather relaxing on the two partners. Jim led the way around the cove back to where he had originally spotted the dinghy. He picked his way unerringly along a deer trail. Blair, backpack slung over his shoulder, in tow. With Eric gone, and no distractions per se, Jim let his control on his senses relax.  
  
"Mind telling me, Chief, what is with your cousin?" The bigger man asked, still rather amused at Blair locking her in the berth.  
  
"What do you mean?" the voice behind him asked, dutifully following Ellison along whatever path he saw, though he, for the life of him, didn't see much of one.  
  
"Major attitude problem there."  
  
"Put yourself in her shoes a minute." Blair responded. "How'd you feel after that disaster of yours down in Peru?" Jim paused, almost turning around to glare at his partner.  
  
"You know I still don't recall most of that," he said gruffly.  
  
"Ah, but you are reacting defensively even now." Blair replied. Jim frowned, ducking under a low-lying branch. He grabbed it, pulling it out of Sandburg's way, and faced him as he drew alongside. His blue eyes bore down on him.  
  
"What's that got to do with it?"  
  
"Sam's on the defensive." Blair said, smiling like it was a simple arithmetic and easily solved. He shooed Jim to go on. Ellison tipped his head slightly, looking irked. Blair shook his head, his hands beginning to move.  
  
"Jim, she's been hurt. She's seen a ship blow up with several people she knew on board it. She's been interrogated several times now, and she has some very valid reasons to believe that whoever was responsible is still alive. And if that is true, when they find out, her life could very well be in danger. Wouldn't you be a little defensive?" he asked.  
  
"That doesn't validate why she locked you in a cabin and hauled you back up here." Ellison responded and began following the trail again.  
  
"No, it doesn't, but if you knew Sam, it isn't entirely out of her character."  
  
"Somehow I get the feeling I am going to know more about her than I really want to."  
  
"It hasn't been easy for her, Jim. Hell, she lost her parents and her twin when she was 12. I just 'know' this business with the Denali is dredging up all kinds of nightmares."  
  
"A twin?" Jim asked, pausing, he glanced back at Blair.  
  
"Only set in our family." Blair explained. Jim deadpanned.  
  
"Was she the good twin or the evil one?"  
  
"Ha, ha." Blair responded, "Believe it or not, she was the submissive twin."  
  
"That was submissive?" Jim exclaimed pointing back over the water at the Sundogs. Blair nodded.  
  
"Should've seen Tab. Definitely an alpha! Sammy had to do a lot of changing after what happened."  
  
"Tab?" Jim asked as they continued moving.  
  
"Yeah, Tabitha and Samantha." Blair replied. Jim suddenly groaned.  
  
"Don't tell me.." Behind him Blair chuckled.  
  
"Aunt Ruth and Mom were watching Bewitched the night the twins were born."  
  
"I don't think I want hear any more of this." Jim sighed.  
  
"Just believe me when I tell you, Jim, there's a lot of pain bottled up inside of Sam. She's never gotten over Tab's death. Twins have a sort of psychic connection. Can you imagine having that suddenly cut off?"  
  
"Actually, yes." Jim replied. Blair paused a moment then grinned.  
  
"Yeah I guess you do, come to think of it."  
  
"How could you forget?" Jim asked. Blair shrugged.  
  
"I really don't remember a whole lot about the actual event, but afterwards."  
  
"Let's not go there either, Chief."  
  
"But Jim, don't you see? Our connection is really similar to Sam and Tab's, only Tab is gone and Sam is what's left. You know.you two are rather similar."  
  
Jim abruptly stopped. He turned to face his partner.  
  
"I am not that bad." he declared. Blair did everything in his power not to smile, he just looked up at his taller partner and batted his blue eyes, innocently.  
  
"Never said you were, Jim." Jim's lips pursed slightly, his eyes narrowing.  
  
"It was watching the stuff going on between Sam and Tab, then stumbling across Burton's book that one summer that got me going on studying about Sentinels, you know." Blair quickly interjected. Jim snorted slightly and continued walking.  
  
"How so?"  
  
"Ever read anything on how twins are bonded?"  
  
"Can't say that I have."  
  
"Pretty interesting stuff, really. They have an empathic connection, a lot of 'em. Especially the identical twins, which Sam and Tab were. They did some pretty wild stuff! They could tell when the other one was hurt, angry, upset, happy, they could even tell when the other one was hungry! And they wouldn't be around one another when they felt this."  
  
"What? Kinda like when one stubs a toe and the other feels it?" Jim asked. Blair chuckled, plowing on enthusiastically.  
  
"Exactly, only more intensified. They couldn't play hide and seek with each other at all. One twin would always know where the other was. They could tell if something was wrong with the other, the list is incredible. I have a huge amount of notes on that bond between twins. It's even been documented between twins that were separated by adoption. It isn't all that too far off from the connection between a Sentinel and a Guide."  
  
"Hold it, whoa! Right there." Jim came to a stop again, turning around and pinning Blair with his eyes. "What bond?" he demanded. Blair only grinned and played with the curls at the back of his head.  
  
"What brought you at a dead run up here, Jim? Why, come chasing after me? What prompted it? And when did it get worse?"  
  
"It was hasty. You always find trouble. You let things get out of hand, and when you didn't call." Jim sharply replied. Blair just smiled, shaking his head and bouncing.  
  
"Nice try! And what's this about me letting things get out of hand? I didn't know Sam was gonna lock me in the berth. Besides that, who let a federal court case get postponed because the arresting officer couldn't sit still in court? C'mon Jim! You can't tell me it wasn't some sort of sixth sense that brought you running. Hell, I knew it would only be a matter of time before you showed up."  
  
"That's only because I always seem to have to rescue your ass! Conditioning is not a bond."  
  
"Yeah, right! C'mon Jim! You're a Sentinel. All of your senses are heightened, including your sixth one. You can see ghosts, and you know there's a bond between you and me. Don't try so hard to deny it."  
  
"Look Chief, it's taken me this long to get comfortable with the five I have, let's not deal with the sixth right now, shall we?"  
  
"Ah! But you aren't denying it."  
  
"I'm not denying it, okay?" Jim said, leading them down a short incline. Blair smiled in triumph. "Can we get to the business at hand, now?"  
  
He stopped at the rocks under a shady grove of cedars leaning precariously out over the water a few short feet below them. The cove was calm and flat, reflecting everything around them like a mirror. Several yards out, the Sundogs sat contentedly. Jim held out a hand, stopping Blair and moving them both away from the 'path' he had been following. Jim crouched down, studying the dirt.  
  
"This saves your cousin's little butt from any more doubt." Jim said and pointed at the faint ridges of a shoe print. "Size 8, and along the lines of a hiking boot." His fingers gently felt along the impression. "Wide foot too. Heavy tread. Can't see someone as small as your cousin leaving a mark like that behind, plus she's got to be fairly nimble, if she's lived on that boat as long as you say she has."  
  
"Cool!" Blair responded, peering over Jim's shoulder and trying like mad to see what his partner could. "Are there any more?"  
  
"Oh yeah, just like a trail of bread crumbs." Jim grinned, looking for all the world like a predator. He stood up and nodded inland. "Headed that way."  
  
"Well so long as the trail of bread crumbs doesn't end up in some sort of trap.." Blair said, peering through the underbrush. Jim looked thoughtful.  
  
"Not a bad point there, Sandburg. If Ritter is as slick as they say he is, and he's found a secret cache, he's bound to have set up some way to protect it."  
  
"Just trying to cover all the angles."  
  
"What I'm wondering about now is her." Jim nodded back towards the Sundogs.  
  
"She's locked in, Jim."  
  
"Doesn't mean she can't figure out a way to get out."  
  
"Wouldn't be able to go anywhere even then." Blair replied, smiling deviously. Reaching into his jeans pocket he pulled out two sets of keys. "Besides those painkillers knocking her for a loop, I never unlocked that chain around the wheel, and I stole the engine keys. She'll still be sitting there when we get back."  
  
"You've got a nasty, suspicious, mind, Sandburg." Jim said, smiling benignly. "I like that." He set off into the brush. Blair chuckled and followed after him.  
  
"Thank you.I resemble that remark!"  
  
They had hiked inland for several minutes, not saying much, but Jim noticed a tendency for Blair to pause. He'd look around, letting Jim get ahead of him, then scramble to catch up.  
  
"What are you looking for?" he finally barked.  
  
"Anything out of the ordinary." Blair responded when he had paused again.  
  
"Like what?" Jim asked.  
  
"Trees, stumps, fallen logs."  
  
"Which is all perfectly normal in a forest." Jim replied.  
  
"I know that Jim, but keep an eye open for ones that aren't quite right. Maybe even look for signs of carving."  
  
"Like for totem poles?"  
  
"Yeah, only way older. The Coastal Indians believed that a totem pole should be allowed to decay and rot with time, much like the trees do. They considered it a part of the cycle of life. It's why a lot of resistance was met to having poles removed from their sites and preserved."  
  
"So what I should be looking for is poles that have long since fallen over and decayed."  
  
"If you think you can spot that." Blair said.  
  
"A good nursery log site or two ought to provide that, Chief."  
  
"Those too, or trees with abnormally high roots. Or even stumps that aren't quite stumps. Anything in a straight line would help also."  
  
"I think I can handle that, Chief." Jim responded dryly. He continued leading them further inland. The ground sloping gradually upwards. On occasion they would reach a clearing and discovered that the island actually had higher foothills. The forest sounds were soothing, mostly birds going about their daily existence and rejoicing in the good weather. Twice, the men startled elk. Jim followed the nearly invisible trail unerringly, his sight easily picking out the tracks made by the wearer of a size 8 hiking boot, along with the occasional broken twigs and branches. He would only stop momentarily and point out to Blair where the more current tracks met with older ones. With that in mind he also kept a lookout for old or decayed totem poles.  
  
"Tell me something, Sandburg," Jim asked, recalling their previous conversation on the boat. "What exactly were you thinking about when you mentioned that Ritter must be protecting something extremely valuable to go to the point of blowing up a shipload of people?"  
  
"Stands to reason. New artifacts, the older the better, can reach inhuman prices on the black market and collectors will go to extreme lengths to get them. Even murder. You should see what happened in the 18th century in the black market trade for tulip bulbs."  
  
"Tulip bulbs?"  
  
"Millions would be spent for a single specimen. People weren't past killing one another to get their hands on rare specimens."  
  
"But what would someone find so appealing in a Coastal Indian site?"  
  
"Oh, an intact canoe could fetch a couple a hundred thousand. That paddle, if it had a handle, could possibly bring in a thousand, maybe two. Cups, bowls, spoons, carved out of cedar or argillite, could bring in some serious bucks."  
  
"Argillite?" Jim asked.  
  
"It's a kind of slippery, black, slate. Real popular among the carvers out along this area."  
  
"What else?"  
  
"Mortuary poles, house poles.baskets, blankets. They can bring in some heavy dollars too."  
  
"You're holding back on something, Chief." Jim commented.  
  
"Well.if one is so inclined, among collectors, they'll pay close to a million for bones, even more for bodies. A mummy could set up a guy for the rest of his life."  
  
"Mummy's?" Jim snapped. "In our climate?"  
  
"Kinda unlikely, but the bone collectors could reap a small mint. Remember me showing you the articles on those mummified children they found in the Peruvian Andes?"  
  
"Not the ones they use in sacrifices." Jim said, distastefully.  
  
"The same, there were others found before them, by grave robbers. The current rumors going around now is that an intact Peruvian mummy can get as high 900,000.00 on the black market."  
  
"Nine hundred thous..?"  
  
"Close to a million and a half if the mummy is a child." Jim paused and looked back at Blair.  
  
"A million and a half would drive an unscrupulous collector to blow up a shipload of people." he said. Blair nodded, looking solemnly at him.  
  
"And I honestly can't see my cousin being into that sort of thing. Marine life is her world. She also feels about archeological finds the same way I do. It was what she was raised in. Spent all of her childhood going from one dig site to another with Uncle Alan and Aunt Ruth. It should be studied, and kept with the culture it was found in. Much like the Ozette find and the Makahs. It's kind of why I understand her wanting me to come up here. She knows it was my field of expertise."  
  
"Is your field of expertise." Jim corrected. Blair shrugged.  
  
"Whatever. Anyway, Sam just went about getting me up here the wrong way."  
  
"Which she and I are still going to have a long talk about." Jim promised and continued walking.  
  
"Sam's had a different way of responding to things, Jim. After the accident, Mom took her in, but then the McClennen side of the family tried to take her away. Mom couldn't afford the court fight so she showed her the only other alternative for her to keep from being shipped to Scotland."  
  
"And I'm sure your Mother is good at coming up with the alternatives." Jim replied. Blair nodded.  
  
"Mom taught her how to fend for herself. You talk about some titanic sized battles! The only thing to keep it all going was Sam not wanting to leave us. We were her family. The McClennen's were virtual strangers."  
  
"And what did Naomi come up with?" Jim asked warily. Blair heard it in his voice and chuckled.  
  
"During the custody hearings Sam requested legal emancipation at the age of 14 and won."  
  
"Fourteen!" Jim barked out in disbelief.  
  
"With plenty of strings attached of course, but she managed to pass the college entrance exams with me that summer and we started at Rainier that Fall."  
  
"And you were sixteen." Jim replied, knowing that Blair had done just that.  
  
"The Universities were just barely beginning to recognize home-schooled children back then. Both of us were a little advanced in our classes so they let us in. We stayed on campus for a while. When the inheritance issues were settled, Sam promptly moved onto the Sundogs. She's lived on it ever since."  
  
"That's a hell of a story there, Chief." Jim remarked.  
  
"Part of the reason why we like to call our lives 'As the Stomach Churns'. It has its finer moments." Blair said, his voice hinting at the wild ups and downs his life had taken.  
  
"And never a dull moment, I'm sure." Jim said and paused as they approached a clearing. His eyes narrowed as he studied the surrounding area. A glance at him and Blair could tell Jim was seeing something he couldn't.  
  
"What is it?" he asked quietly.  
  
"There's a ridge over past that grouping of trees." Jim said, pointing out a thick cluster of cedar and spruce. "It's still pretty well covered in greenery, but I can just make out some shifts in the ground before it disappears behind that smaller hill."  
  
"Mudslide?" Blair asked. Jim shrugged.  
  
"That or it shifted from an earthquake. It's got a bunch of fallen trees and I can just tell here and there where the ground has slipped underneath them." His head had tipped slightly.  
  
"I think it's looping back towards the water too."  
  
"Would stand to reason." Blair murmured, watching Jim. "The Haida are a coastal people. Most of their food and their livelihood dealt with the sea. I can't see a village too far inland, unless a cove went in that far. If it's large and protected they'd have used it."  
  
"Our hiker here is heading that direction, Chief. " Jim said and set off again.  
  
Their progress slowed as Jim had to work at following the slim trail. They were beginning to have to climb over and under logs. They encountered a few switchbacks and at one point had to make their way over a sizable stream. Jim doggedly followed the tracks and managed to tune out the muttering coming from behind him. A large portion of an hour passed before Jim began to encounter the smell of the sea coming in over the pungent aroma of the forest in summer. They were close enough now to the area where they could see the sharp rise in terrain as it blended into the surrounding foothills. Ridges and cliffs stood out more prominently. And at several locations, both men could see the shifts caused by erosion or other activities. But of an old village, or any evidence thereof, they had seen nothing.  
  
It wasn't too long before both began seeing glimpses of a cove along the path they followed which abruptly developed into a full fledged trail. Someone had been cutting and blazing a path. Jim, being the first to notice it, saw it led inland and also towards the cove which held a small half moon of a beach. He brought Blair to a halt at the top of a rise looking down on the place. Inland, the foothills formed a vee, carved down the middle by another stream as it tumbled its way to meet the sea. Jim studied the cove a moment then frowned in thought. He looked out past the protecting point of land curving out and away into the inlet before being cut off by the promontory they stood on.  
  
"That looks familiar." he murmured, his eyes compensating as he focused more sharply on the furthest point of land. "This is Haniak Inlet." he confirmed, studying the landmarks that Eric had showed him earlier. With his hand he pointed out the curve the inlet took. "It heads North, out past that point of land, probably meets up with the Channel from there." He looked around them, his mind racing. "Whoever's been here cut a trail to this place for a lookout point. There's also another trail just down by the mouth of that stream."  
  
Both studied the beach. The bay was serene and flat, only the water from the stream as it trickled to reach the sea and the lapping of gentle waves could be heard. At the berm line, a tangle of driftwood sat all knotted together, silvering in the onslaught of time. The beach wasn't sandy, full more of cobbles, pebbles, and larger rounded stones.  
  
"Man." Blair said softly. "This is an ideal place for a village. You got fresh water, lots of trees, food at the doorstep, rocks for steaming.there's something here. Has to be." He shook his head. "Why forsake a protected natural site?"  
  
"If what you're thinking is right.maybe the Haida considered it haunted? A natural disaster would earn it a bad reputation." Jim said. Blair nodded.  
  
"And that paddle had to come from somewhere."  
  
"Let's go take a look at that beach." Jim said, and began leading them down the path. He wasn't halfway down the steep trail when he came to a stop so fast that Blair literally ran into him.  
  
"Hey." he started as Jim's arm came up across his chest.  
  
"Careful!" Jim snapped, stopping Blair from going forward. Jim crouched, scrutinizing the path before them. "Check it out," Jim said, pointing at something before him. At first Blair didn't see it and no wonder, there at ankle level was a thin strand of fishing line stretched out across the path ahead of them. Jim shook his head, his eyes following where the line went into the brush on the land side of the path, the smile on his lips almost scornful.  
  
"Someone thinks they're clever," he murmured. Reaching up and grabbing Blair by the shirtsleeve, he pulled Blair down, next to him. "Watch your head, Chief" he said and leaned forward to grab the line. He jerked it hard. There was a sharp snap followed by the thunk of wood on wood then the alarming swish of a huge branch as it whisked past their heads.  
  
"Oh sh**!" Blair exclaimed as his arms shot up to cover his head, after the fact. The branch from a nearby birch quivered as it returned to its normal place on the cliff-side of the trail. Jim shook his head and stood back up.  
  
"If the fishing line didn't trip you up and send you flying down the path, the branch would have knocked you over the cliff." He studied the trip mechanism, nothing more than a broken stick. "They obviously don't want us to find something." He studied the little stick a moment then snapped it with his thumb. "Let's go see what it is." He started off down the trail again. Blair grinned, hiking his eyebrows; Jim had gone into his hunting mode.  
  
Gaining the beach, Blair slowed down, studying the terrain. On the far side of the stream, the ridge had sloughed off ages before, forming a natural barrier; whereas on their side, a small meadow, full of sedge, cattails, and marsh grasses, wended it's way back into the hills. Jim ranged out, walking towards the stream while Blair aimed towards the driftwood berm. Climbing up onto one of the bigger logs he scanned the beach, thinking. Jim, meanwhile, reached the stream, spotted an easy way across and promptly headed towards the cliff barricade. On the log, and closer to the marsh, Blair looked inland, frowned a moment, then smiled.  
  
"Hey Jim, take a look at that." He pointed towards the farthest point of the cliff face where it began to blend in with the surrounding landscape. Jim glanced his way and then looked to where Blair was pointing. Three old, graying stumps had sprouted several large conifers where their seeds had landed in time past. The third, half buried by erosion from the cliff, had grown a sizable huckleberry bush now in full fruit. They stood out separately from the remains of several other long dead tree stumps varying greatly in different sizes and shapes. Yet the stumps in question were nearly equal in girth and in the final stages of deterioration. Blair looked up the ridge, thickly carpeted in salal, huckleberries, ferns, and mosses. Closer to the top several trees, too close to the edges, had fallen over and had become 'nursery logs' for other trees and brush to grow on over time. Much the same as the three stumps.  
  
"See any evidence of erosion?" Jim asked, gazing at the stumps.  
  
"Then or now?" Blair asked. Jim shot him a look, causing Blair to shrug and grin.  
  
"Not anything recent looking," he said. "But those stumps are a lot more promising. They look too well rounded at the base."  
  
"What base you can see." Jim added, noting how much undergrowth had grown to cover them. "Our trail leads that way too." Blair waved a hand at the ridge.  
  
"Sometime way back, this slope wasn't here. It's come down from further back and up. I just know there's something buried under there. Now we just need to find it."  
  
"If those are the bases of totem poles, you're more than likely right." Jim said as Blair hopped off the log and headed for him. He negotiated the stream easily and joined up with his partner.  
  
"Enough of the searching around Jim, why not try sniffing it out? It'd take us forever looking for it by sight alone. Remember how the paddle smelled? Try finding that."  
  
"What am I some sort of bloodhound now?" Jim asked, shaking his head.  
  
"Just thought I'd make a suggestion. I mean you got it, why not use it? Save us from uh." Blair scratched at his sideburn, looking nonchalantly away. "Beating around the bush?"  
  
Jim groaned. However he looked out towards the stumps, gazed thoughtfully a moment then carefully inhaled, filtering out the smells in the way Blair had long ago taught him. Tuning out the smell of the sea and the forest was easy, along with an elusive, drifting aroma of blackberries ripening in the summer sun. He ran through a gamut of marshy smells trying to isolate the ones he recalled on the paddle. Something odd tickled lightly at his hypersensitive nose. He frowned, a vertical crease appearing on his forehead and he cautiously started walking forwards.  
  
"Keep an eye on the trail, Chief." He murmured, scrunching his eyes shut, and rubbing furiously at his nose. Blair followed. Sniffing carefully Jim moved forward, slowly scanning the surrounding area and trying to isolate the distinctive smell. However, something else kept interfering, something oddly familiar. Jim paused.  
  
"What the." he mumbled and decided to hitch his sight to the lone stray smell that kept tantalizing his nostrils with it's familiarity. All he saw was the surrounding landscape. They approached the stumps, revealing a sharp curve to the right just beyond them which wasn't visible from the beach. All Blair could see was scrub-covered cliff-side. He approached the cliff face, keeping a wary eye on Jim and the trail, his hand resting on a huge moss covered boulder. At the top of the rock, protecting the back from the seaside, grew a gigantic sword fern, its fronds glowing in the afternoon sun, hanging elegantly over the boulder. Years of dead fronds built up a huge dry layer on the back side of the rock. Blair glanced at it, his hand idly shoving away some of the debris, the dry brown frondlets fluttering slowly to the ground. Blair was about to turn his head away when his eye caught something and he looked back at the rock. Frowning, he reached up with both hands and split apart the dense layer of dried fronds.  
  
Jim had just about isolated the odd aroma, his sight scanning the surrounding ravine trying to locate the source when his hearing picked up a sharp intake of breath from behind him.  
  
"Oh Sh**!" Blair murmured, for the second time in less than half an hour. He had jumped back from a rock, in surprise, looking startled.  
  
"What?!" Jim demanded, scowling as he abruptly yanked himself back to normal. A sharp ping reverberating in his head.  
  
Blair was beginning to shake, but then he suddenly moved forwards and scrabbled at the underside of a huge fern, ripping out chunks and handfuls of dead leaves. Jim realized Blair wasn't shaking in fear, he was shaking in excitement.  
  
"Jim! Look at this!" he finally managed to gasp, tearing away at the base of the plant. As he approached, Blair began to carefully brush off the dry back side of the boulder that the fern grew over. He frowned as he looked over Blair's shoulder. Blair's fingertips flicked away debris and he leaned in and blew away the remaining bits, carefully avoiding contact with the rock itself. Jim frowned.  
  
Staring back at both of them was a face.  
  
Though nearly black in color, Jim's sight automatically compensated for him and he was able to pick out sections of faint red and even slimmer sections of white. It was a ghoulish looking face, sunken cheeks, huge staring eyes, and a mouth hanging open. From its top sprouted bits of straggly hair all carefully drawn on the dry side of the rock. It had the distinct style of Pacific Northwest Coastal Indians.  
  
"Do you know what this is?" Blair asked, looking at him, barely able to hide his excitement. Jim just shook his head, staring back at the eerie sight, his lip lifting slightly in distaste. The whole face couldn't have been bigger than a dinner plate and looked hideous.  
  
"It's Kushtaka. The Soul Stealer." Blair said studying the face.  
  
"Soul Stealer?" Jim snapped looking at his partner. "Don't tell me we're about to take a trip to the twilight zone, Sandburg! Cause if we are."  
  
"No, no, no, no, no!" Blair rambled, shaking his head and pulling away a few more dead fronds. "The Tlingit and the Haida sometimes set out warnings to other clans amongst their tribes about places they considered either supernatural, sacred, or downright taboo. They didn't just set up carvings, they painted them on rocks. Just like this. And they usually always painted the face of Kushtaka or Dzonokwa."  
  
"Dzono what?" Jim asked sharply.  
  
"Think of it as a female version of the bogeyman. The Coastal Indians would set these faces out as warnings for others to stay away. If it was a really bad spot they almost always painted the face of Kushtaka, a soul stealer. Something that looks like a man or an otter and steals away men, women, and children, turning them into kushtaka to come back and roam the earth, stealing other souls. The Tlingit and Haida have several tales of how the kushtaka were closely tied to Land Otter people. Whenever they had a drowning, or someone disappeared or was killed in the forest or if a place was downright haunted, they'd put the face of Kushtaka somewhere to keep people away, to protect them. Don't you see?" Blair asked, looking up at Jim. "They set this face here to remind others to stay away because people died here. Something bad happened."  
  
"Like an earthquake, or a mudslide." Jim murmured. He turned his head, looking back over at the cliff face. Hitching his sight to his smell again he concentrated on the strange odor. His eyes were scanning the lush vegetation when he began to notice a slight difference. There was an area where the undergrowth appeared to be wilting. Within seconds he grunted in surprise. Blair glanced at him, seeing the cold smile on his face.  
  
"What?"  
  
"There it is." Jim said, pointing at the cliff. Blair looked sharply that way.  
  
"Where?"  
  
"Under the canvas." Jim said moving past his partner. "I thought I smelled oilcloth." Blair studied it, unable to make out where Jim could see the cloth.  
  
"It's camouflaged, Chief. And the trail ends at the cliff." Jim said. Blair immediately followed.  
  
"Oilcloth? As in canvas?"  
  
"With a camouflage net over it." Jim made his way along the trail, mindful that another trap could be present. As Jim got closer it became easier for him to see the netting, but Blair couldn't make it out until much closer when he saw the wilting vegetation and strips of camouflage fabric. Cautioning him to stay put a few moments Jim surveyed the immediate area where both he and Blair could see the signs of activity, with the ground leading to the cliff face being trampled. Drawing even closer, Jim's eyes began to water, his nose itching.  
  
"There's our mildew smell too." he said, motioning Blair to join him. He hastily dialed his sense down.  
  
"Someone's gone through a lot of trouble to keep this hidden." Blair commented.  
  
"So let's see what they've found." Jim replied, searching for an anchor pin for the cloth. Together the two partners pulled the camouflage netting off a large section of army green waterproof canvas which covered a sizable section of the cliff face. An odd shaped bulge poked out near the top at close to Jim's height. Blair grabbed hold of the canvas, his eagerness to see what was underneath it clearly visible.  
  
"Hold on, Chief, let me check it out first." Jim cautioned, minutely examining the area for any hidden signs of a trap. Blair was again bouncing on his toes.  
  
"If this is an undiscovered site, do you know what this will do for the Archeological community? Not to mention the Haida?"  
  
"It's not exactly undiscovered, Sandburg." Jim said, "And at the moment it's the crux of a multiple murder. It's going to create more controversy than anything else and," He paused taking hold of the fabric. "We still have to find the guy responsible. Just remember even though we're in a different country, we've got an obligation to uphold. Not only for finding the guy responsible for this, but for getting that cousin of yours out of the mess she's in."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I need to remember I'm a cop, but just this once Jim, let me indulge.." Blair pleaded. Jim turned back and smiled slightly.  
  
"I think I can do that." He said and very gently began to peel away the canvas.  
  
With his back to the cliff face and the tarp blocking his view, Jim at first didn't see what was being hidden. He was wrestling not only with the canvas, but with his sense of smell at the odors assaulting his nostrils. It had to be good though, Blair immediately sucked in a deep breath.  
  
"Oh man, oh man, oh man, oh man, oh man, oh man, oh man." he babbled. Jim looked over his shoulder and froze. Staring back at him were not one but two things.  
  
The bulge turned out to be the top of a short, by totem standards, pole. Its head leaned out towards them. Face pointed downwards, the beak of a carved bird, with large staring eyes gazing down at them. Underneath were several other figures, intricately carved on a pole whose base was buried under the cliff. That wasn't all. Several feet away was another pole, nearly identical, almost completely buried in the cliff itself, only a few portions having been cleaned as yet. Above the two was the broken and severely listing portions of a frame. All were nearly blackened with time, age, and encrusted soil. The twisted 'doorway' revealed a cave like opening to something deep inside the cliff itself. It was quickly apparent to the two that it was some sort of house, buried ages past by the ravine coming down on top of it.  
  
"Housepoles." Blair breathed, carefully examining the head of the bird. "Eagle clan.This is just too wild! It's a longhouse Jim! My guess is a ceremonial one used for potlatches! There's no telling what could be inside there!"  
  
"Whatever it is." Jim said looking in through the opening. "It's been dead for a very long time." Blair looked at him. Jim's lip was curled back in distaste as he scanned as far as the light would let him. He checked for signs of traps, his eyes taking in the boulders and hardened dirt that had fallen into what parts of the building he could see. There were other things besides.  
  
"Is there.?" Blair asked. Jim nodded.  
  
"There is. I just can't see them and the smell.." He pulled himself away, shaking his head trying to adjust his sense even more. "It's a weird smell Chief, it's smells like death, but not in a normal way. It's almost like it's." Jim shrugged, frowning. "Stale."  
  
"Years of being sealed in the cliff." Blair replied studying the more exposed housepole. "You can see here where this has been bared to the weather for awhile. There was more to this upper beam at some point too." His finger followed a section of discoloration. "It probably means that the first few feet of interior items may be rotting or ruined. Further back it's anyone's guess. That paddle on the Sundogs though.that was in great shape until the handle got blown off. How far in can you see?"  
  
"Not very, wouldn't happen to have a flashlight in there, would you?" Jim asked, indicating Blair's backpack as he continued peering back inside the opening. Blair grinned and slipped the pack off his shoulder. Eagerly he hauled out a large flashlight, handing it to Jim.  
  
"Snagged Sam's before we left the boat, just in case." He remarked at Jim's questioning look.  
  
"Someone's been in there shoring up the walls too." Jim remarked switching the light on and starting for the door. Blair's hand on his arm stopped him.  
  
"Treat it like a crime scene, Jim. Don't touch anything. No telling exactly how old this stuff is, but I'm guessing 500-600 years. It's priceless and more important, it's pre-contact. What's in there is going to be a window into the culture of the Native population around here and any disturbance can be catastrophic. The Haida Nation was nearly wiped out by smallpox and influenza. They were the largest tribe on the West coast at one time. It wasn't until recently they've managed to build themselves up to a population of 4,000 people. What's in there is going to be extremely important to them. It'll be their way of reestablishing their roots."  
  
Jim, about to cut him off, paused at the look in Blair's eyes and his softly spoken, impassioned speech. Blair was searching his face. Far back in his partner's eyes he could see a trace of fear and something else. Jim nodded. The ghost of Blair's former life faded slowly from sight.  
  
"I won't touch a thing, Chief." he reassured. Blair smiled slightly. Falling in behind his partner, he followed Jim inside.  
  
Jim paused just inside the door, leaning right, trying to avoid hitting his head on the caved in ceiling. He struggled again with his sense of smell as he carefully played the flashlight over the interior of the longhouse. His hearing picked up ominous creaking from the ancient building and from the cliff itself.  
  
"Place isn't very stable." he muttered. "But someone has been shoring things up in here." He showed Blair where new posts and iron rebar had been brought in to shore up the twisted ruins. It was pretty clear also that work had been done to clear the rubble away from what parts of the longhouse could be reached. Not wanting to gain outside attention most had been shoved near the doorway, creating a more opened area further into the site. Jim was conscious of Blair standing very close behind him. His hand came out and moved Jim's arm, shining the light to the right.  
  
"Oh man.." Blair groaned. "Will you look at that!" Towards the back of the 'cave' stood a huge object, three-quarters buried by the cliff. Angled towards them, it's prow jutting into the room. Small ancient logs still held it up off the ground, even in its precariously tipped state.  
  
"During Winter, the people would roll a canoe halfway into the house and work on it. That's what that is.it's still being carved on.there's tools on the floor there." Blair pointed out.  
  
"What's just beyond?" Jim asked shifting the light past the prow of the canoe, to the left. He shook his head fighting against his eyes suddenly threatening to tear up on him. Sheets of plastic, held down by rocks, covered small bulky objects. Together both approached the canoe, Blair eagerly examining it and touching nothing. All around them were scattered various objects. Lying where they had fallen by the ancient disaster. Each man pieced together what had happened ages ago, humbled by the force behind such an event. Jim approached the first plastic covered mound.  
  
"Sandburg." He murmured, shaking his head again, scrunching his eyes shut and rubbing at his nose. Blair quickly appeared at his elbow. Jim flashed the light down. Forming half a halo from under the tarp was a strange strand like substance. Jim squinted, his hand rubbing at his eyes and crouched. Blair's hand caught his hand as he was about to touch it.  
  
"It's hair, Jim." He said.  
  
"I can see that, Sandburg." Jim growled. He gripped the edge of the plastic and pulled it back. Braced for one thing they got another. It was a dog. The long tail hairs stretching away from a dessicated and discoloured body, it's teeth bared back in death.  
  
"A dog?" Jim asked, his voice raspy. He blinked a few times forcing his eyes to focus.  
  
"Why not?" Blair replied. "They used them for all sorts of things." Blair moved into Jim's line of vision, pulling the plastic further back from the animal. "Hunting, packing, even carded the hair and made blankets out of it." His eyes caught sight of something from another plastic covered mound close by the dog. "Like that." He pointed down at an odd bundle. Jim, struggling with his eyes, sniffed once, shook his head again and focused the flashlight on what Blair was pointing at. From under the other mound, the corner of a blanket could be seen. Jim squinted, even in it's grayed condition he could just make out a simple plaid pattern.  
  
"Plaid?" He asked, rubbing at his nose.  
  
"Oh yeah!" Blair replied excitedly, grabbing the other sheet of plastic. "The Scots weren't the only folks with Plaids and Tartans. This is dating this sight. It's at least 500 odd years. The Makah dig yielded up plaid blankets too, all made from dog hair." Blair pulled the plastic off the other mound. Then wished he hadn't. Several things registered at once.  
  
The mummy had died in his teens, huddled under the blanket, one hand stretched out towards the dog and surrounded by cherished items. His features were settled and composed, looking like he had only just lain down to sleep. He was covered in the simple plaid blanket. More recent deterioration however, had already begun to affect his lips and eyes. Blair stared for a moment in horror, before something else finally registered. Jim had suddenly lurched to his feet, a low deep moan escaping from the man.  
  
Staggering backwards, Jim held out one arm to catch himself, the other grabbing for his throat as he breathed in an agonized gasp. The flashlight fell from his hands, breaking and plunging the cave into darkness. Moving fast, Blair didn't have time to say a thing. He grabbed Jim's arm, spun him around and shoved him towards the muted light of the longhouse doorway.  
  
"Move it, Jim!" Blair urged as the bigger man stumbled, nearly falling to his knees. Ellison didn't respond, his breathing had suddenly developed an alarming wheeze. Blair pulled Jim's arm over his shoulder, partially dragging the stumbling man after him as he made his way to the cave entrance. The second they emerged into fresh air, Jim threw his other arm up over his eyes as he slammed them tightly shut at the brightness of the sunlight, nearly falling. Blair kept his feet moving, hauling Jim with him.  
  
"Come on! C'mon, keep moving!" he demanded, almost falling himself, as Jim leaned heavily into him. Blair lowered his voice when he saw Jim wince at the sound.  
  
"Find your controls, Jim, turn 'em down!" Another groan was torn from the bigger man's throat as Blair headed them for the stream.  
  
Their mismatched sizes finally caught up with them as they stumbled to the edges of the bank, Jim's taller form falling over Blair's stockier one. Together they went down, crashing into the gravel of the streambed itself, sending up a spray of cold water. Blair twisted, landing on his hip, keeping Jim from falling directly into the water. Blair shoved his partner upright, onto his knees, forcing Jim to keep himself up by planting his hands in the streambed. Scrambling to his feet, Blair faced his partner whose hands were in the stream, water up to his forearms, knees embedded in the mud of the bank. His chest was heaving as he tried to breathe. The next thing Ellison realized, Blair was shoving his face into the water.  
  
Jerking back at the sudden cold contact, he drew in a deep breath, shaking his head hard, trying to force his eyes open.  
  
" 'burg!" he barely managed to croak, as he felt water hitting his face.  
  
"Just breathe, Jim!" Blair demanded in an undertone. Jim's jaw clenched as he began sucking in air through his teeth. He could feel Blair scrubbing cold water up and down his lower arms, then splashing it back onto his face.  
  
"It's an allergic reaction, Jim. It's affecting you like an asthma attack." Blair's voice softly explained. "Just keep breathing through your mouth and try to relax. The more you fight it the worse your breathing is gonna get. Try and control your dials man! You're eyes are way too dilated! Sh** , they're nearly black!"  
  
Jim shook his head again, realizing now why he could hardly see. He kept his eyes screwed shut and grit his teeth, trying to follow Blair's instructions. The only sense not totally out of whack was his sense of touch. He buried his fingers into the gravel of the streambed, forcing himself to split his concentration. One part fighting for control of his 'dials', the other focusing on the feel of the cold water and pebbles in his hands.  
  
For several minutes Jim struggled, gasping for air, as Blair continued to bathe water on his arms and face. His chest felt horribly tight and painful.  
  
"That's it Jim, that's it." Blair murmured encouragement as Jim slowly began to rein in his out-of-whack senses. His eyes, however, wouldn't fully cooperate, neither would his breathing.  
  
"Jim, we're gonna have to get you back to the boat somehow." Blair said, tipping his partner's face up slightly. "I know I saw some Benadryl in Sam's first aid kit." Jim felt Blair's thumb try to lift his eyelid and made an attempt to knock his arm away. He heard him chuckle.  
  
"And now you're fighting back! Keep it up, Jim, you're getting somewhere now."  
  
"What." Jim rasped out. "Caused this?" He shifted slightly starting to use one hand to splash a little more water onto his face.  
  
"Who knows? Could be the dust in the cave, maybe the mildew, the dog hair. My guess is inclined to be the mummy." Blair replied.  
  
"Why's that?" Jim gasped struggling with his eyes. The wheezing in his chest was abating only marginally.  
  
"You've never been around them to my knowledge." Blair replied. "Man, we have to get you back. You sound terrible, and your eyes are starting to swell." Blair struggled to his feet, wavering in the streambed and dripping water. "Keep splashing water on yourself." Jim only nodded, coughing now and wishing he hadn't. It felt like his chest suddenly burst into flame. He groaned as Blair gripped his shoulder, steadying him.  
  
"Make yourself relax Jim. I know it's tough, but you gotta do it." Jim nodded. His face reflecting the distress he was in. Until he was sure Jim was under a little more control, Blair wouldn't leave.  
  
"The only thing that's gonna take that wheezing away is an antihistamine. We just have to get back to the boat."  
  
"Let me get a little more control of my vision here, Sandburg." Jim growled. "Everything is haywire. Except touch."  
  
"Good, keep concentrating on that, I'll be right back." Blair said, patting him on the shoulder and vanishing. Several minutes passed before Blair returned. Jim heard his pack hit the ground next to him, then Blair waded into the stream. Jim had barely begun to breathe steadily, if painfully. He was trying not to start coughing and his eyes refused to cooperate.  
  
"Can't get my eyes to go back to normal!" He grated out harshly.  
  
"Then don't fight it for now." Blair said as he washed off his hands and arms. He slipped a hand gently under Jim's arm, helping to his feet. "We've done this before, Jim. I think I can lead us back. Just follow me."  
  
"I'm not in the bullpen this time, Sandburg. I'm somewhere out on an uninhabited island!"  
  
"Think of it as a prolonged test in sonar then. Just keep a hand on my shoulder. What you need right now is that Benadryl, 'cause by the time we get back to the boat, you aren't gonna be able to open your eyes, plus your breathing sounds like hell! Do you still smell what's in the longhouse?"  
  
"Yes! I can't get rid of it! It makes me want to gag." Jim snarled.  
  
"That's what I thought. Whatever is causing this got your olfactory and visual senses stuck on as well as triggering a reaction. Those were the two you were concentrating the most on. The sooner we get out of here, the sooner you should be able to start breathing a little easier. And get your eyes to contract again."  
  
He felt Jim's hand shift on his shoulder, almost gripping his neck.  
  
"Then what the hell are we waiting for?" he snapped, his voice gravelly. He began coughing in earnest.  
  
The Sundogs, early evening.  
  
Getting Jim back had to be one of the worst hikes Blair had ever been on. Although able to follow the return trail, he was far slower at it than Jim. Then having your partner hanging onto you, nearly blind and in respiratory distress, slowed them down considerably. By the time he got Jim into the dinghy, the bigger man was exhausted from the coughing fits and wheezing. He collapsed in the prow, his head dropping back over the edge, hands clutching the gunwales as Blair shoved the oars into their locks. Jim's eyes had swollen shut and he was forced to breathe through his gritted teeth; his jaws clenched so tight that the muscles looked like knotted ropes. What had earlier that day been an hour and a half hike to the longhouse site had turned into something nearly three times that long as Blair had to let Jim rest frequently. Now he sagged in relief as Blair shoved them out into open water, rowing hard.  
  
For his part, Blair had never been happier to see the Sundogs. He shipped the oars, allowing the dinghy to drift into the back of the bigger boat. It took only seconds for him tie the craft off securely.  
  
"Hang on a few more minutes, Jim." he said, climbing up over the rails. Jim could only nod as Blair left him rocking in the dinghy. Blair immediately dove into the cabin.  
  
Sam, having slept off most of the afternoon, was still dozing lightly when she heard the cabin door burst open. Blair's palm hit the upper slide bolt, hitting it open before reaching down and snapping open the other. She frowned and blinked at him, muddled.  
  
Blair looked like he'd been in one hellacious cat-fight. Myriad small scratches marred his face and hands along with assorted twigs and leaves that clung to his short curls. He was wearing a liberal application of dirt and his clothes looked damp. There was also a sense of urgency about him and a dead seriousness in his dark blue eyes. He darted forward, grabbed her arm and nearly jerked her off the bed.  
  
"C'mon!" He snapped.  
  
"Blair!" She exclaimed, nearly falling off the berth and wincing at the pain it caused.  
  
"I need your help! And the first aid kit!" He demanded, letting her go. His arms swept nearly everything up off his bunk and dumped it unceremoniously on the port side settee. Sam looked at him in startled bewilderment. He spun around on her.  
  
"Move it!" he yelled and turned away, scrambling back up on deck. Sam moved. Seconds later she gained the cockpit, hauling the kit after her and froze. Blair had helped his partner up to his feet, holding him steady as he climbed back into the boat. Ellison was hanging onto the rail, his eyes swollen shut, and beginning to cough. His breath coming in wheezing gasps.  
  
"Don't just stand there!" Blair snapped at her, looping his arm around Jim's. "Help me get him on deck!"  
  
"What happened?" she exclaimed, dropping the kit on the starboard bench, next to where the oar had lain, forgotten. She dashed over, reached out and grabbed at Jim's other arm. She was staring at his swollen eyes.  
  
"What did you do, run into hornets?"  
  
"If only it were that simple!" Blair groused, helping Jim to climb over the rail. Jim could barely stand and he clutched for the nearest support. All Sam felt was a heavy arm dropping over her shoulders and some very long fingers digging into her collarbone. She sucked in an agonized gasp, dropping to her own knees. Jim came with her.  
  
"Sam!" Blair snarled as he hauled back on Jim's arm preventing him from hitting the deck too hard. Jim was cognizant enough to fall forwards onto his hands and knees again.  
  
"Sandburg!" he rasped out, fighting suddenly for control again. "The oar." he gasped. "Making this worse."  
  
Irate, Sam was climbing back to her feet, eyes screwed shut in pain. She opened her eyes just in time to see Blair leaning over and grabbing the oar off the starboard bench. He spun around, glancing at the object in despair for a split second. He jostled it around, gripping the handle, the spear- like portion pointing down. He hefted it once and let it fly.  
  
"Blair!" she yelled, watching the paddle arc out far over the water then down. It slipped into the water with a small splash and vanished. Sam looked at him in shock.  
  
"Get me some water!" He snapped at her, grabbing the kit and falling onto his knees next to Jim. He hastily snapped open the locks and found the Benadryl then looked sharply at his cousin.  
  
"Get me the damn water!" he yelled angrily. Jim let out another groan and began to sway, wanting to lie down.  
  
"No Jim!" Blair snapped. "Don't lie down yet! Sit back if you can." Ellison winced, making an attempt to grab at his ear closest to Blair. "Sorry, Jim!" Blair said, forcing his voice down. Sam, meanwhile, stumbled past him and headed for the cabin. Seconds later she reappeared, handing Blair a bottle of water. He snatched it, jostling a pair of pills into his hand.  
  
"Help sit him up!" He snapped in a low tone of voice. Sam, bewildered and irritated, gripped Jim under his arm and hauled him back. She looked out over the water where Blair had flung the paddle.  
  
"What the hell is going on?" She snapped. "Why'd you throw the paddle away?" Jim gasped in pain, his hand flying up to cover his ear. Blair's hand grabbed her arm as he jerked her onto the deck with him.  
  
"Ow!" She started to yell. She suddenly had her cousin's face nearly nose to nose with hers, gripping the front of her shirt in his free hand, blue eyes blazing.  
  
"Keep your voice down!" he hissed. Sam stared back at him, shocked to her toes. Blair had never been rough with her before. "And do exactly as I tell you!" he added. "Now help him sit back!" Stunned, Sam obeyed.  
  
Blair coaxed Jim into taking the pills, then scrambled to his feet. Jim fought back another coughing fit, trying to draw air into his protesting lungs. Blair gripped his shoulders in his hands, forcing himself to slow down.  
  
"Get every pillow you can and set them up on my bed." He hissed to his cousin., beginning to massage Jim's shoulders. "We can't let him lie horizontal, not until we get his breathing under control." Jim groaned, letting his head drop forward.  
  
"Hang in there Jim, let those pills work. C'mon buddy, get a hold of those dials and start working on them. Concentrate on my hands." Blair murmured into his ear. Sam stared at them both as she lurched to her feet. This was by far the strangest way to treat an allergic reaction that she had ever seen. Biting her tongue, she stumbled her way back into the cabin.  
  
For the next several minutes, she scurried around inside readying the starboard berth, then quietly slinked back up on deck. The funny suspicion that had wandered aimlessly in her thoughts earlier that day had suddenly found something to land on. She stared at Blair, working at Jim's neck and shoulders, half bent over the man who was still wheezing and coughing, eyes watering despite being swollen shut. She listened.  
  
"Keep working on that dial, Jim. Don't worry about your eyes yet. Just get your nose under control. And relax. Listen to my voice and concentrate on my hands. C'mon you're doing better than you were a few minutes ago. Keep it up."  
  
"My damn head is killing me.." Jim gasped between wheezes, reaching up, wanting to rub at his eyes. Blair caught his wrist, firmly forcing it back down onto Jim's knee.  
  
"Don't! You'll just make the swelling worse." He said quietly. "C'mon Jim. Hit a minus two on that sense dial. Let's get this wheezing under control. The paddle's gone. You shouldn't be reacting to the smell any more. The Benadryl should be working soon."  
  
"I think I need some more of that water there, Chief." Jim grated out, leaning back a little into the hands working at his neck. Blair looked up and paused.  
  
Sam, in the doorway of the cabin was looking back at him, her hazel eyes huge, mouth half opened, pale with realization.  
  
"Oh sh**." Blair whispered, reaching up and running his hand down his face. Jim frowned, as Blair's other hand stopped its ministrations.  
  
"What?" Jim wheezed, trying to tip his head to listen. Sam slowly backed up into the cabin. Her eyes not leaving Blair's.  
  
"I think we might have another problem." Blair said softly, his voice carrying an undertone of warning.  
  
"What now?" Jim growled, unable to see Sam vanishing into the cabin.  
  
"You don't want to know, yet." Blair said and returned to working on Jim's back, working his thumbs along Jim's upper spine.  
  
"Don't want to know what?" Jim gasped, irritable.  
  
"Don't worry about it yet, just focus on getting your breathing under control." Blair said, glad that Jim couldn't see the worry in his eyes. He kept coaching him, forcing himself to relax, making his hands work at getting the muscles in Ellison's back to loosen. Jim leaned into it a little more, unable to avoid a coughing fit. Despite the wheezing, he let out a sigh.  
  
"We're getting somewhere, Chief." He managed to gasp out harshly. "Where's that water?" Blair winced, then looked up as he saw movement in the doorway. Sam had reemerged. Watching them both, she approached slowly, an open bottle of water in her hands.  
  
"Here." She said softly reaching down, touching the bottom of the water bottle on the back of Jim's hand. She looked at Blair straight in the eyes. He stared back, cautious and wary. Jim took the water bottle.  
  
"Thanks," he whispered, lifting it and chugging. Blair's shoulders sagged as he studied Sam's face. Her eyebrow lifted.  
  
"It's all starting to make sense." she said quietly.  
  
"Sam." He started.  
  
"What is?" Jim rasped, his head turning towards her.  
  
"Blair," she said. "I couldn't figure out for the life of me why he would throw away his life-long passion and become a cop."  
  
"Sam, not now!" Blair grated, standing up straight. He gripped Jim under the arm. "C'mon Jim." He urged, helping him up. Jim swayed badly, his knees wanting to buckle as he struggled with the tenuous control on his senses. Something else caught his attention however, he towered over Sam, clutching at Blair's shoulder as he tried to stay upright.  
  
"Throw away what life-long passion?" Jim grated out. Sam stared at him, then looked at Blair, who was shaking his head.  
  
"His study of Sentinels." She said quietly, gazing at her cousin.  
  
For several seconds the only thing that could be heard was Jim's wheezing. Yet Blair felt his partner tense like a wary cat. A very big, wary cat.  
  
"Sandburg." he started to growl.  
  
"Not now, Jim! For cryin' out loud, not now!" Blair pleaded, feeling ill, and steering his partner toward the cabin. Jim's jaw clicked shut, but Blair could see it was for other reasons. Ellison continued to suck in air through his teeth, letting Blair guide him through the doorway and into the salon.  
  
It was with a small measure of relief when Jim collapsed on his back on the berth, propped up slightly by the pillows, but another tension had filled the cabin. Blair helped him swing his legs up.  
  
"What haven't you told me now, Sandburg?" Jim rasped out, sounding surly.  
  
"Jim." Blair pleaded. "C'mon man. What am I supposed to do? You're having one hell of a respiratory attack. How can I hide helping you out with it?"  
  
"How many more people in your family know about this, Sandburg? And what's this one gonna do with it?" His voice sharp with accusation.  
  
"Jim, that really sucks!" Blair snapped back.  
  
"I agree!" Sam said, from behind him.  
  
"Sam, shut the hell up!" Blair pleaded. He felt Jim move. Jim had sat forward, one hand gripping the bench portion of the settee, the other pointing a finger directly at Sam, his head turned slightly, trying to stare at her through sightless, swollen eyes.  
  
"You stay out of this!" He tried to yell. "If it wasn't for your stupidity in not reporting this like you should have, this wouldn't be happening now!"  
  
"Jim! Knock it off!" Blair snapped back. "This isn't helping matters!" Ellison began to cough again.  
  
"Neither are you, Sandburg!" Jim gasped harshly. Blair looked for a moment like he'd been slapped. Sam went ballistic.  
  
"You sorry son of a bitch!" she hissed, pulling Blair away.  
  
"Sam!" Blair protested, grabbing her arm. She tried to shrug his arm off, looking at him.  
  
"I'm not gonna listen to this!" She snapped at him, then turned her attention back on Ellison.  
  
"You came on this boat and the first thing you did was slam me up against a wall. Now you're back on this boat and your sitting here accusing my cousin of God-only-knows-what while he's been busting his balls trying to help you breathe for the past half an hour! What kind of an egocentric jerk would slam someone half their height into a wall? Then try and make the person trying to help him out feel like sh**?"  
  
"Sam, enough!" Blair snarled, trying to shove her back.  
  
"You want to know how I know about it? I spent 12 years in college studying with him! Hell, it's been longer than that, ever since he found that book about Burton in Paraguay!"  
  
"Sam, stay the hell out of this! It's not your concern!" Blair snapped, pulling her away from Jim.  
  
"How can you say that?" She asked, looking at him. "He's ripping you to shreds! I'm not gonna let him, not on my boat!"  
  
"Sam, you don't know the story behind it all! It's a hell of lot more complex than you can see! Just stay out of it!"  
  
"And what are you doing?" She snapped, focusing on her cousin. "You've been defending him ever since he came on board!"  
  
"I'm defending him for damn good reasons too, Sam! For things you know nothing about!" Blair snapped at her, shoving her towards the cabin door. "Now will you go up topside and wait?! I'll be up in a minute and explain a few things to you!"  
  
"And it had better be damned good, too!" She snapped back and swarmed out of the cabin. Jim barked out a raspy chuckle and settled back into the pillows. Blair glared at him, an angry silence descending in the cabin, marred only by the sound of wheezing. Jim shook his head slowly and winced.  
  
"She really doesn't know does she?" he asked.  
  
"No Jim, she doesn't. I haven't seen her in five years! She just figured it out. She's known what my thesis topic has been all along, and though she can be really dumb on some things she is not stupid!" Blair replied sarcastically. Jim smiled sardonically.  
  
"And she doesn't know I can be a nasty bastard when things aren't right with this." He gasped, waving a hand in reference to his senses.  
  
"What do you think?" Blair shot back. Jim breathed in deep, letting it out slowly.  
  
"Come on Chief, let's call a truce." He gasped. "It's been a rough few hours."  
  
"One of these days, Jim." Blair growled at him. He thumped his fist hard into his hand, his face expressive. "Pow! Right in the kisser!"  
  
"Who? Me or her?"  
  
"Both!"  
  
"Some day I ought to let you." Jim replied as his voice failed. Blair shook his head.  
  
"Can you lay there a while and just breathe? I have some explaining to do and we still need to get the boat to Haniak Inlet before dark."  
  
"Laying here and breathing I can do." Jim grated out. "We need to contact Olssen and let him know what's up also."  
  
"I'll do that too. I'll be back in a while to check on your eyes. Just relax about Sam okay? She's a loner, and she knows how important secrecy has been for my research. She's not gonna leak it out to the public." Blair said, sounding a touch weary. Jim face softened a little as he turned his head towards his partner.  
  
"It's all right, Chief." He said quietly. "We're just letting the stress get to us all. We seem to be taking it out on each other, too."  
  
"You got that right." Blair said, pulling open the refrigerator. He hauled out another bottle of water, twisted the cap off and curled Jim's hand around it.  
  
"I'll be back in a while." He said. Jim nodded and lifted the bottle to his lips, sighing.  
  
"Think maybe she'll chill a little?" he asked. Blair shook his head.  
  
"Dunno, Jim. You did thump her into a wall."  
  
"You had to remind me." Jim whispered sourly.  
  
"You asked."  
  
"I did."  
  
"That Benadryl is working. I think you're mellowing out."  
  
"Just wait 'til we have our little discussion." Jim whispered and swigged from the water bottle. Blair just shook his head and went up on deck.  
  
"Just as long as I am nowhere around." He said.  
  
Sam was pacing the short cockpit when Blair emerged a few minutes later. She glared at him, getting ready to blow when he just shook his head.  
  
"Don't start!" he warned, digging up the keys from his pocket.  
  
"Have you lost your mind or something!?" She demanded as he brushed past her, heading for the wheel of the boat.  
  
"I think maybe you had better be asking yourself that question." Blair replied tartly, reaching down and grabbing the lock on the chain. He quickly undid it, hauling the chain off the wheel with a clatter and dumping it unceremoniously on the deck.  
  
"Will you please just sit down a minute and let me explain some stuff to you?" he added, switching keys. His thumb shot forward, hitting the automatic pulley for the anchor. "We have to move this boat to Haniak Inlet. Jim and I located Ritter's source. I need to contact Olssen and let him know and you and I." He looked at her straight in the eyes. "You and I need to have a good long talk."  
  
"You found Ritter's source?" She exclaimed as Blair turned the key in the ignition.  
  
"I just said that, didn't I?" he snapped, waiting impatiently for the anchor to finish being reeled in. He ran a hand through his hair, his lip curling at the feel of twigs and leaves. He roughly brushed them out with his fingers.  
  
"How'd you find it so fast.." She started then stopped. She studied Blair a moment.  
  
"Or did he find it?"  
  
"He found it." Blair confirmed. He looked back at Sam with fatigue filling his eyes. "What have you figured out?"  
  
"Aside from him being a total ass?" She snapped. Blair's eyes closed and he sighed.  
  
"Sam, he's been worried about me for the past 24 hours because of what you pulled, and now he's having a hell of reaction from something we found at the site. Do you know how close he could have come to going into respiratory arrest? Your aggravating the situation isn't helping any of us! Now tell me what you've figured out." Blair growled, his voice low with intent.  
  
"How many senses are hyper?" She snapped, shaking her head. "And why on earth are you putting up with him?"  
  
"I put up with him, Sam, because he's my partner. He's also my roommate, and more important, I put up with him because he also happens to be my best friend." Blair replied, knowing that Jim, doubtless, would be trying to listen in.  
  
"Your best friend?" she shot back, jabbing a finger at the cabin. "That is what you call a friend?"  
  
Blair took a steadying breath, closed his eyes and waited a moment. He finally gazed at his cousin.  
  
"I've known him for four years now, Sam. I've never had a better friend. Will you just tell me what you've figured out and let me explain some things to you? Please?" He asked quietly. Sam looked at him, still baffled and angry.  
  
"Sam." he pleaded.  
  
"He's got some of those hyped senses." She replied. "But why would you." she started, but then another thought intruded. "Wait," she said, looking at him in realization. "Don't tell me he's got all five senses activated?"  
  
"Six." Blair corrected, relieved beyond measure to see he was finally breaking through her cloud of indignation. Sam stared at him.  
  
"Six?" she gasped.  
  
"Sit down, please Sam?" Blair asked, as they both heard the anchor lock into place. Blair began to gently feather the throttles. One hand rested lightly on the wheel as he steered the boat towards more open water.  
  
"You found one?" she asked, genuinely thunderstruck. Blair pointed at the bench beside him. She slowly sat down. "You actually found a Sentinel?"  
  
"Just shortly after you left for Monterey, Sam," he said sitting down next to her. "And yes, he's a Sentinel. All six senses are up and activated. He was nearly out of control when I persuaded him to come to my office at Rainier. Can you imagine what that is like for a Detective? He's been a Cascade PD Detective for around 9 years, Sam. He's also a former Army Ranger. A Captain in Special Op's. He thought he was going nuts. The only way I could figure out how to help him was to get myself on as a Cascade Police Observer. One thing led to another, Sam. There's so much to tell you, but I can't possibly begin to cram four years of my life into a few minutes. We ended up roommates because of the explosion I told you about. We then became friends. Several months ago a situation arose and I was presented with an opportunity to earn a gold shield. I took it. Cascade PD has permanently assigned me as Jim's partner."  
  
"What about your diss?" she automatically asked. Blair closed his eyes, a look of anguished pain drifting across his tired looking features.  
  
"It's been shelved," he said and before she could draw breath to ask, he added. "Think about it a minute, Sam. Jim's a Sentinel. And a Detective, sworn to serve and protect. What do you think would happen to him if the information I know got out to the public?"  
  
For a long pause Sam didn't reply, she just let her cousin's softly spoken words sink in. When she spoke again she looked at Blair with concern in her eyes.  
  
"What about your doctorate?" she quietly, naturally asked. Blair smiled sadly.  
  
"That's been shelved too, Sam."  
  
"But Blair." she started to protest.  
  
"Sam.The Doctorate isn't important. Think some more. All my life I wanted to study Sentinels. I dreamed of getting my Ph.D., studying them. When I finally found one I suddenly realized just how unimportant that was in the scope of helping him. Not only in helping him personally, but in the type of work he's in, too. In order for me to be able to do that, something had to give. Besides, he's a human being, not a lab rat. Helping him to get his senses under control and focused is more important. Helping to make even the smallest dent in wrongs that occur everyday in this world is just as important. If I published my diss about him, think of what it could do, not only to him, but all the arrests and cases we've managed to solve in the last four years? The people it would effect. The court battles that would ensue. Jim would never be able to work again. What do you think I should have done? You tell me, what do you think?" He asked.  
  
Sam didn't reply. His words hit hard and sank deep. Her head turned and she gazed out at the cove slowly slipping past them as they headed back out into the Principe Channel.  
  
"What do I think?" she whispered. She looked back at him.  
  
"I think I have a cousin," She drew in a breath, "Who's a hell of a lot wiser than I ever thought he could be." She smiled slightly, her own voice, hushed. "Someone who had to make a tough choice and probably made the right one," she heaved a sigh and leaned into him, resting a head on his shoulder. "Who has a total blockhead for a younger cuz."  
  
"I'll second that." Blair replied, smiling in relief.  
  
"You don't have to agree!" she sighed, reaching up to hold his shoulder. "You actually gave up your doctorate for him?" she asked. Blair nodded his head.  
  
"I did. But you know, Sam. Police work still keeps me involved with people. Instead of studying some ancient culture to learn the how's and why's of people way back then, I've been allowed to turn it around and use it for people here and now. I've been working with and helping an extraordinary individual." Blair shrugged his shoulders, raised his eyebrows and smiled. "Pig headed as he can be at times, but the rewards have been. phenomenal."  
  
"And you've always liked being around people." She said. Blair didn't reply, he just nodded, smiling.  
  
"So." she asked. "What do I need to know about him?"  
  
"First of all, brace yourself for the chewing out of your life. He's got a need to be in control unlike anything you've ever seen and he will sit you down and set you straight on some things in regards to our friendship. You messed with his partner, cousin or not, and he's gonna make damn sure you never do it again!" Blair said, unable to hide a certain amount of mirth from his voice. Sam groaned, shaking her head.  
  
"Secondly, he's got just as much hurt or more, than you. He lost seven of his crew in a sabotaged mission in Peru, a Dad who told him he was a freak for being a little different, and an upbringing that was more a war zone than a home." Sam pulled back a little and stared at him. Blair shrugged.  
  
"We all have our hurts. Jim's just never quite been able to deal with his. Kinda like you."  
  
"I've handled things quite well." She replied. Blair smiled at her.  
  
"Jim denies things too. Just like you." he teased  
  
"Blair." She growled. He shook his head. She smiled lopsidedly and shrugged. A painful twinge reminded her that things weren't back to normal yet as far as her own injuries were concerned.  
  
"So uh.what is this reaction all about? Is he gonna be all right?"  
  
"He should be. He reacted to something at the site. I have a good idea I know what it is, but I had to get him out of there in a hurry. Then he started reacting again around the paddle, which is why I chucked it. It's got something to do with the smell and the age of the site."  
  
"Age? How old do you think it is?" she asked.  
  
"Remember going over to Ozette?"  
  
"On the Olympic Peninsula? The dig?"  
  
"Yeah, there was a plaid blanket in this site we found."  
  
"No joke?!" Sam gasped, then saw a fleeting look of dread flicker in Blair's eyes. "What else?"  
  
"It's a longhouse, buried in a cliff face. Kinda like the Ozette dig only I think this one is more earthquake related. I found a Kushtaka sign just before we located the entrance."  
  
"Kush." Sam stared a moment, thinking. "That s.o.b. He found a 500 year old site, didn't he?"  
  
"Ritter? Yeah, he did. "And what Jim and I found inside is enough to motivate anyone interested in black market artifacts to kill a lot of people." Blair watched Sam's reactions. She looked shocked, and puzzled.  
  
"What did you find?" she asked quietly. Blair shook his head.  
  
"I'm not gonna tell ya. Simply because if Ritter is alive, and he finds out you weren't on the Denali when it went up, he's gonna come after you. If he knows you know what all is in that cave." he just let the implication hang. He gazed at her steadily.  
  
"Sam, this thing has gone from bad to worse. I just want you to know that both Jim and I are going to do everything we can to keep you safe. With everything you've told us about Ritter, he's not going to let what is in that site go unattended. And he's certainly not going to let anyone get anywhere near it. There's enough in that site for all of us to retire on. He's going to want to keep it to himself and he's already proven just how far he will go to do that." Blair reached over, clutching her hand, his eyes not leaving hers.  
  
"And you are the only witness to help convict him once we catch him."  
  
"You sound so certain." She replied, looking a shade doubtful. Blair's mouth curled in a devious grin.  
  
"Ritter's got a pissed off Sentinel to deal with now!"  
  
For a few seconds she just gazed back at Blair and recalled her few encounters with Ellison in the space of less then twelve hours. Slowly, a crooked smile appeared on her lips, followed by an impish twinkle in her eyes.  
  
"And I can just imagine he can be a mean s.o.b. to run up against too!"  
  
"Oh yeah!" Blair responded his face full of humor. Sam shook her head, thinking a few more minutes longer, her gaze drifting to watch where Blair was steering the boat.  
  
"I suppose I should go and apologize, eh?" she asked. Blair glanced at her and shrugged.  
  
"It's up to you."  
  
"Well I can be a little witch at times." She said, sheepishly.  
  
"Witch?" Blair innocently asked. Sam rolled her eyes. He laughed.  
  
"I know you get that way under stress, Sam. However." he glanced at her, smiling. "It could help sooth some ruffled feathers." She sighed, her shoulders dropping.  
  
"I hear ya, I hear ya." She said, standing up. Blair chuckled.  
  
"I see Mom did rub off on you!"  
  
"Aunt Naomi? Are you joking?" She glanced at him in mock horror. "Give me a break!" Seeing the look on Blair's face, Sam sighed again, shaking her head.  
  
"Let me go face the fire."  
  
"Bring me back something to eat when you do." He prompted.  
  
"You think I'll actually make it back?" She asked. She held her hands up in frustration. "Your partner just screams 'cop'!"  
  
"Don't I know it!' Blair joked. "Go on, I've got to get Olssen on the horn, here." Blair said, lifting the mike from the wheel console. Sam smiled, nodded, and headed for the cabin door.  
  
Just inside, Sam paused and studied the other occupant. Though the wheezing was still present, Jim was breathing easier. He had settled more comfortably, his head tipped towards the wall, right arm draped across his eyes, the left lying across his stomach. She suddenly felt extremely nervous, and swallowed uneasily. The idea of declaring retreat and heading back out on deck became so appealing that she actually began to back up the stairs.  
  
"I'm not gonna bite." Jim's low voice rumbled. Sam froze.  
  
"I uh, I wouldn't be so sure of that." She started to say, realized how it sounded, then paused. "Um.did you hear any of what we just said?"  
  
"I don't make it a habit of eavesdropping on my friends." He replied. Sam raised an eyebrow, her lips pursing, considering what he said.  
  
"Blair speaks pretty highly of you." She responded, a touch on the defensive. Jim smiled slightly.  
  
"Blair would." Jim could hear the uncertainty in Sam's voice.  
  
"You wouldn't happen to have a bag of frozen peas or some such in your freezer would you?" He suddenly asked, neatly catching her off guard.  
  
"Um.I don't think so.just some ice cubes.why?" She asked, sounding totally puzzled.  
  
"I wouldn't mind having something cold over my eyes." He replied softly. Sam blinked, then entered the cabin.  
  
"Well. uh let me get you something here." She said. Jim could hear her reaching into the freezer, grabbing a plastic ice try, and groaning a little at the response that her cuts gave her for stretching. They said nothing as she dumped the ice into a plastic zip-loc, found a towel, and wrapped them in it. She cautiously approached.  
  
"Maybe this'll work." She said. Jim held up his hand. She laid the icepack in it and he promptly draped it across his swollen eyes. He sighed his relief.  
  
"Thank you." He murmured. He could hear her standing by the bunk, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.  
  
"I uh, I guess I owe you an apology." She said quietly.  
  
"For?" Jim asked, laying his arm back over the ice pack.  
  
"Well." She took a deep breath. "Well for causing you a lot of worry where Blair's concerned and for jumping down your throat a few minutes ago." Jim smiled sagely, lifting his chin in acknowledgement.  
  
"I guess I can accept that." He paused.  
  
"I uh.I didn't know Blair had become a cop.and, well..."  
  
"You don't have to explain yourself." He murmured. Sam frowned, a little puzzled.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Considering what you have been through the last few days, your actions aren't out of line. Mine however, were. I had no business putting my hands on you." He could tell Sam was staring at him, surprised.  
  
"Is that an apology?" she asked, frowning. Jim shrugged.  
  
"It is, if you'll accept it."  
  
"I guess I can, too." she said, in return. "I'm still a little puzzled at all the changes in him.I mean, he's still Blair, but there's whole lot more."  
  
"His becoming a cop surprised the hell out of you." Jim said flatly then he smiled. "But only because you haven't seen him since you graduated.Did you really go to Rainier with him?"  
  
"The University?" she asked. "Yeah, why?"  
  
"He never told us about you."  
  
"Us?"  
  
"My boss, and our co-workers. Blair's become a damned fine Detective over the last four years. He only just recently earned his shield."  
  
"Well." she said softly, and he could hear a little mirth in her voice.  
  
"I didn't tell a whole lot of people about Blair either." The corners of Jim mouth curled down.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
" I guess you could call it preservation. We both started college rather early for our ages. There was a certain amount of notoriety involved. We wanted to keep low key and focused on our studies. That was actually Aunt Naomi's idea."  
  
"Aunt Naomi." Jim smirked slightly.  
  
"You know her?"  
  
"How can you miss her?" Jim asked back. He heard her snuffle with amusement.  
  
"You know don't you." he said. "When all this is over you and I are."  
  
"Gonna have to sit down and have a good long talk." She cut him off, finishing his sentence for him, and sounding annoyed. "I've been duly warned."  
  
"Actually I'd like to know little more of the Sandburg family history."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Blair's a great one for obfuscation where he himself is concerned. We actually don't know a whole lot about his childhood other than the basics. We would kind of like a little more background." Jim explained.  
  
"We?"  
  
"The boys at work."  
  
"You're fishing for bribery material aren't you?" She shot back. Jim's laugh suddenly erupted from him.  
  
"Yup!"  
  
Sam shook her head, smiling, and deciding that Ellison wasn't so bad after all.  
  
"It'll cost ya, you know." She replied. Jim nodded, smiling.  
  
"Doesn't it always?" He paused a moment, getting quiet, turning his head and shifting the ice pack on his eyes. She frowned, watching him.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Olssen just blew up about the oar getting thrown away."  
  
"Olssen? He's not even." Sam started then stared at Jim.  
  
"You can hear him over the radio too?"  
  
"Pretty much."  
  
"I thought you said you don't eavesdrop on your friends?"  
  
"I said I don't make it a habit. Work is another story. When this situation involved Blair, it became work. Your deciding to take him on an unexpected cruise caused a delay in a federal murder trial, then this situation you're involved in has become an international case."  
  
"A delay in what?" she gasped.  
  
"I'm the arresting officer in a federal murder case, Blair's disappearance caused a postponement in the trial."  
  
"Oh sh**." Sam breathed. Jim was satisfied to hear the remorse in her voice.  
  
"That, I didn't know."  
  
"That's all right.so far." His voice carried a hint of warning. "Blair's handling Olssen just fine. Say, what are the chances of catching us some fish while were out here? You got your license?" Sam paused, looking at him, then her staccato laugh broke the silence.  
  
"Is that like a big hint or what?" she asked. Jim grinned and decided he liked her a whole lot better when she laughed.  
  
"Since Olssen is being delayed north of us and we're spending the night in Haniak Inlet, I thought maybe a little fishing would be in order.except I can't do much of anything at the moment and these pills are about to knock me out."  
  
"Yes, I have my license." She said patiently as she shook her head and moved past him into her berth where she gathered up her overlarge sweater. "This must be a guy thing or something. What is it about guys and fishing?"  
  
"Don't tell me you're a vegetarian, like Naomi?" Jim asked, looking puzzled. Sam chuckled.  
  
"No way! I'm more a carnivore than Blair is. What do you think I have fishing licenses for?"  
  
"Then what's all this crap about 'guys and fishing'?"  
  
"Because Blair was begging me to go fishing just the other day. I'm just trying to figure out this insane desire about man vs fish? I just fish for food. You guys fish like it was a competitive sport. He who gets the biggest fish wins. The machismo element gets a little thick!"  
  
"What can I say?" Jim asked, shrugging as he tried to smother a grin. "It's a guy thing."  
  
"Isn't that what I just said?" She sighed wearily. "Okay, let me go tell Blair he can pretend to be Capt. Ahab for a while, but I'm warning you. No fish stories!"  
  
"Who us? Would we do that?" Jim chuckled, then sighed, feeling the effects of the Benadryl. "When he gets done with Olssen, tell him to call Simon when he's through and let him know we're gonna be here a while longer."  
  
"Simon is?"  
  
"Our Boss."  
  
"Um.do you like, make it a habit of controlling of every situation you're in, too?" she asked suddenly. Jim smiled, biting back his laugh.  
  
"Is it that obvious?"  
  
"About as obvious as you are a cop." She replied. Jim gently rocked his head.  
  
"Someone needs to take charge around here. Two Sandburgs on the loose is enough chaos to last a while."  
  
"You ain't seen nothing yet." Sam said conspiratorially.  
  
"And that's exactly why someone needs to be in charge. Go on, go tell Blair to call Simon, and let him know I'll be up in a while."  
  
"Gotcha." Sam replied and headed back out on deck. Jim sighed and wondered how long their truce would last. Within minutes the Benadryl caught up with him and he let himself drift off to sleep.  
  
  
  
Haniak Inlet, Pitt Island, Friday Evening.  
  
The sound of Blair whooping with excitement dragged Jim up out of sleep much later that evening. Sandburg had obviously caught something and was letting everything in and around their cove know about it. Jim frowned and tried settling back to sleep, but found that the Benadryl had worn off. His breathing was easier, with much less wheezing. He could hear Sam's laugh as Blair struggled with something, the boat rocking with the sudden activity.  
  
Jim cautiously removed the long melted ice pack from his eyes, feeling some puffiness about them, but he was relieved to find that he could control his vision again. Knowing they were now a lot closer to the longhouse site, Jim pondered on whether or not he should tamper with his dials in relation to his sense of smell and decided against it. One asthma type attack a day was enough to last a while. And besides, his swollen eyes still hadn't gone down far enough. He carefully pulled himself upright, swinging his feet to the floor. He paused, testing things out to see if he'd go into another attack or not, then decided he'd live. The head called.  
  
He was just emerging when Blair's grinning face appeared in the cabin doorway almost level with his head.  
  
"How big is it, Chief?" Jim rasped, his voice still effected by the previous rounds of coughing.  
  
"Almost 20 lbs! A King. We are gonna have some fine eats tonight! How are you feeling?"  
  
"Better."  
  
"Your eyes look a lot less puffy, but then I'm only guessing, it's dark in here."  
  
"It's gone down considerably."  
  
"And your breathing?"  
  
"Doing okay so far, though I don't think it's a good idea to up the dial on smelling. We're too close to the site."  
  
"Good idea. Your voice sounds awful."  
  
"Trying to bark up a lung will do that. You call Simon?"  
  
"Uh, yeah."  
  
"Yeah?" Jim asked, not liking the hesitancy in Blair's response.  
  
"He's not too happy with us." Jim looked at Blair a moment then sighed.  
  
"No, I suppose he wouldn't be." He ran a hand over his hair, scratching then scrubbed at his face. "What else did Olssen have to say?"  
  
"What did you hear?"  
  
"He wasn't too pleased about you chucking the paddle overboard."  
  
"And?"  
  
"He's stunned we actually found the site. I fell asleep after that." Blair nodded.  
  
"Apparently he's been in touch with the Haida Gwaii folks and they're getting  
  
together a bunch of people to come over and check the site. There's rumors it was an ancient tragedy, but it hasn't been confirmed yet."  
  
"Any news on Ritter?" Jim asked, moving into the galley and opening the refrigerator.  
  
"Oh yeah." Blair smiled mischievously, hiking his eyebrows. Jim glanced at him, removing a bottle of water from the fridge.  
  
"Someone matching his description appeared at a logging camp Wednesday night, hitched a ride to the main camp at the North end of the Island where he got on a 25' cruiser and sailed away. No one has seen him or the cruiser since Thursday. "  
  
"Then he's around here somewhere." Jim stated, twisting the cap off. Blair grinned.  
  
"Bound to be. He won't let a site like this go unattended."  
  
"Maybe if we stick around long enough." Jim mused, pausing to take a swig from his bottle.  
  
"Simon want's you back by Monday morning."  
  
"Me?" Jim retorted looking sharply at Blair.  
  
"Hey, I've got down time remember? Besides, I've got to help sail this rig to Cascade. Sammy still can't get her arms above her shoulders." Jim scowled and rolled his shoulders.  
  
"What else did Olssen have to say?"  
  
"He had to head over to Hartley Bay, said it was something about a domestic fight, and he wanted to contact the RCMP in Prince Rupert about tracking the cruiser Ritter may have gotten. He's gonna try and make it back here tomorrow morning after he stops back off at the logging camp again to pick up the guys from Haida Gwaii."  
  
"Think maybe we can get him to bring me my gear?" Jim asked, noting that at one point Blair had cleaned himself up and changed. Blair grinned.  
  
"Already asked him. He'll be bringing your pack in the morning."  
  
"Mind asking Samantha if I can use the shower?" Jim asked, nodding approval at Blair's thinking.  
  
"Will you fit?" Blair joked.  
  
"My Army days saw worse, Junior." Jim grumbled. "I just don't know what the water capacity is here and I feel like I have ants crawling all over me."  
  
"Water should be fine. I only took a ship shower while you were out." Blair said as he withdrew his head. "Hey Sam? Mind if Jim uses the shower?"  
  
"Is he gonna fit?" her voice, from the stern, floated back. Jim rolled his eyes and smiled tolerantly. Blair chuckled. "Sure, I don't mind," she replied. Blair looked back at him.  
  
"Squeeze on in there! We should have dinner cooked by the time you get out."  
  
"Who's cleaning the fish?" Jim asked, looking around for where the towels might be stored.  
  
"Sam did. She wields a mean filet knife." Blair smiled, his hands slashing at an imaginary fish. "Add a little garlic, add a little onion and a little bit of butter, pop it on the grill.mmm, mmm, mmm!"  
  
"You better get started then, I won't be long." Jim warned. Blair only laughed as he made his way inside to get supplies.  
  
"Watch your eyes, Jim. Gotta turn a light on to see."  
  
"Yeah, yeah." Jim growled, finding what he needed.  
  
Several minutes later, he emerged up on deck, barefoot, a towel wrapped around his waist, wet hair combed back. Murmuring an apology about not putting jeans back on that were caked with mud, he then proceeded to knock off the worst of the dirt from his jeans against the taffrail before disappearing back down inside the cabin. Sam blinked once, a bit surprised, then had the grace to look away, blushing. Blair shot a quick glance at her, then grinned as he bent over a small propane grill where the delectable smells of ultra fresh grilled salmon wafted enticingly into the still night air.  
  
Finally emerging, dressed, Jim noted they were tucked into a partially hidden cove and with a few minutes careful study, he could just make out the beach leading to the longhouse site at the far right end of the inlet. Anyone approaching them by boat would almost have to be on top of them before they would spot the Sundogs.  
  
The evening was calm and warm, shirtsleeve weather, and a thousand stars sparkled overhead. Jim took in the late evening scene around them and noted the end of Sam's conversation.  
  
".don't want him getting back to that site."  
  
"Don't know if we can prevent him getting back to it, Sam." Blair responded, tending fish. Sam sat behind the wheel of the boat, wrapped in the blue and green sweater that was way too long for her. The sleeves were rolled up past her elbows. She had her bare feet resting on the lower rim of the wheel. Beside her sat a cutting board, a damp towel and a long, sheathed knife. A soft light emanated from the narrow wheel console, their only apparent illumination. It reflected back on Sam, making her appear tiny. Jim still couldn't get over how small she looked.  
  
"It kills me knowing he's been raping sites like this, Blair." She said, eyeing Jim as he paused just this side of the cabin door and looked around them. "And now that I think about it, most of the stuff he showed me in his personal collection was things pillaged from other sites. He kept going on about how rare they were. I'm sure about it now."  
  
"I'm sure he hasn't shown you everything he has either." Jim said, wandering to the grill and looking over Blair's shoulder.  
  
"Back off, you'll get fed first, just let it finish." Blair warned, poking at a few vegetables grilling beside the fish. Jim smirked and looked around the cove again.  
  
"Nice location." Jim remarked, "We can see them before they see us."  
  
"Thanks." Sam murmured, clutching her knees, still being mindful of her shoulders. He looked at her. "You picked it?" he asked. She just looked at him and nodded.  
  
"I can't think of a way to keep him out, despite what's in there. There's no way for us to rig a warning of any kind from here." Blair said, as Jim looked over a fishing pole still mounted and awaiting a bite from whatever lurked under the black waters.  
  
"How'd you manage to catch a Salmon in here?" Jim asked, frowning.  
  
"We're sitting in a deep little crevasse. Indicator says so. Personally I thought he'd got a Ling Cod until it started fighting back." Sam said. Jim nodded. She glanced at Blair.  
  
"I'd like to do something, anything to keep Howard from getting back to that site."  
  
"Sam." Blair sighed, having gone on with the same round of conversation earlier. "There isn't any way to stop him, short of catching him, which is what I hope we can do." He nodded at Jim. "Ritter's already caused us enough problems."  
  
"Not to mention killing six people." Jim added, and saw Samantha flinch.  
  
"But getting you near that cave is out of the question." Blair said, looking up at Jim.  
  
"I'm not anxious to repeat the experience, Chief." Jim replied reassuringly.  
  
"Chief?" Sam asked, looking at her cousin. Blair smiled mysteriously and nodded, looking towards Jim.  
  
"It started a while ago, Sam. It's been that way ever since," he said. She raised a curious eyebrow and nodded.  
  
"You know.I wouldn't mind throwing an anchor in Ritter's plans myself." Jim murmured, gazing towards the far away beach. "It might also be a way to flush him out into the open. He's got to be around somewhere close. He's not likely to stay away from what's in that cave for very long. He's gonna want to get to it before anyone suspects he's not dead."  
  
"We already know he's not." Sam grumbled.  
  
"Only because we hold the advantage." Blair replied.  
  
"Despite how we got here." Jim reproved gently. Sam smirked and sighed. Blair looked at his partner.  
  
"You got something in mind, Jim?" he asked. Jim frowned thoughtfully, lifting his chin as he gazed off in the distance. He had to actually squint a little because of the swelling still around his eyes in order to see as far as he could in the dark.  
  
"We could prevent Ritter from getting back in that cave," he said.  
  
"Really?" Sam asked him, her voice actually brightening. "How?"  
  
"Yeah, how?" Blair asked, suddenly wary in his own right.  
  
"Seal the cave off." Jim replied.  
  
"Uh.not a good idea, Jim." Blair responded instantly.  
  
"Why not?" Sam asked, frowning at him.  
  
"There are some very priceless items in there, Sam. We need to be able to get them out and taken care of properly for the Haida people."  
  
"We?" Jim asked.  
  
"You know what I mean." Blair growled, carefully turning a thick fillet of Salmon over.  
  
"We can still seal it off."  
  
"I did get the canvas and camouflage netting back over it before we left, Jim. No one else can get to it."  
  
"Yeah, but Ritter knows how. I'd like to throw him a curve ball."  
  
"How?" Sam pressed.  
  
"Jim, there isn't anything else we can do to keep him from getting in there any way."  
  
"Sure there is, Chief." Jim replied, looking askance at him.  
  
"How!" Sam snapped. Jim smiled.  
  
"Bring the cliff back down on top of it. That ridge was unstable enough."  
  
"Whoa! No! Not a good idea." Blair protested, his arms waving for emphasis. He pointed the wooden spatula he had been wielding at Jim.  
  
"That's a 500 year old site, Jim. It's priceless for the native peoples out here. We can't go reburying it."  
  
"Why not?" Jim asked.  
  
"Yeah, Blair? Why not?" Sam asked. Blair shook his head.  
  
"Sam, you of all people, ought to know better."  
  
"With the netting covering the entrance Chief, finding it again would be easy." Jim said. "Just bring some of the ridge down over it for now and they can go digging for it later. Meanwhile Ritter has no access to his find and gets caught off guard." Jim smiled predatorily. "And when he does, I'm gonna be right there behind him." He murmured threateningly.  
  
"Now I like that idea!" Sam said, earning a scowl from her cousin.  
  
"Burying the site is not a good idea. Besides you'd need some sort of explosive to bring it down. All we've got is a little left over propane in this grill." Blair grumbled.  
  
"C'mon Chief, think about it a minute. Ritter wants nothing more than to get what's in that cave. If he can't get to it, he's stuck. Somehow he's got to figure out how to get back in it, that's gonna take money and labor. He's not gonna have it, at least not right away. He's got to rethink everything he's plotting. So while he's doing that." Jim just smiled coldly as he studied Blair. "We're there to catch him."  
  
"But Jim, what if we bring too much of that ridge down?"  
  
"Couldn't happen, Chief. You said yourself we don't have enough explosive to do that much damage. However, we may have enough to seal it off. Then later the native folks can come in and clear it all out. With the tarps still in place, inside and out, things will be intact and they can get in there and do whatever they do to restore them."  
  
"C'mon, Blair. It sounds valid to me." Sam said, looking expectantly at her cousin.  
  
"Everything in me rebels at the thought!" Blair declared, then paused. "But it does sound reasonable. There's just one hitch."  
  
"That is?" Sam asked, smiling with anticipation.  
  
"We have no explosives. Nada. Zilch. Zip. Nothing. How are we supposed to blow a ridge up over a cave site?"  
  
Jim's smile suddenly beamed over them. He glanced at Samantha.  
  
"Got any flour?"  
  
"Flour?" The cousins chorused in unison. Jim leaned over behind Blair and picked up a box of wooden matches that had been sitting on the other side of the grill.  
  
"And more of these?"  
  
"Just what exactly are you thinking, Jim?" Blair asked, suspiciously. Sam suddenly snickered.  
  
"I bet you've read the Anarchists Cookbook!'  
  
"Actually I haven't." Jim replied mildly as Sam scrambled to her feet.  
  
"But I have." Blair replied looking at Jim thoughtfully.  
  
"Now why doesn't that surprise me?" Jim asked as Sam slipped by him, heading into the cabin.  
  
"You haven't read it?" She asked in passing.  
  
"You learn all kinds of things in the Army." He replied. Her giggle echoed back to him from the salon.  
  
"I just bet!"  
  
"Do you have any candles while you're at it?" Jim called down to her.  
  
"Yeah, let me get 'em."  
  
"Now all we need are some small, destructible, containers." Jim murmured, looking around the deck. Blair was just taking a swig from a bottle of water when he asked. He paused in mid gulp, almost choking, and held the bottle up as he suddenly coughed.  
  
"You mean.like this?" he said between gasps. Jim almost snatched the bottle Blair had out of his hand, but Blair managed to tuck a shoulder in and blocked his attempt.  
  
"Get your own Ellison! You've guzzled enough of them today." Blair protested. Jim grinned and cuffed Blair on the back of his head.  
  
"Drink and hand it over and get that dinner finished, we've got work to do." Jim ordered. Blair just shook his head.  
  
"I still don't know if this is a good idea or not."  
  
"Sure you do, Chief. You're just sore 'cause you didn't think of it first." Jim shot back and began searching for the empty plastic bottles.  
  
After they had eaten, they gathered themselves around an interesting pile of kitchen utensils, flour, matches, empty water bottles, and a few other bits and pieces. The deck floodlights had been turned on to provide light. Sam sat cross-legged on the deck itself, shaking dry several of the bottles as Jim, sitting on the port side bench, sorted through the items. Blair, knife in hand, was carefully trimming the candles to fit into the mouths of the water bottles.  
  
"Wouldn't happen to have a mortar and pestle stashed away on this boat would you?" Jim asked Sam, amused at her enthusiasm for the project at hand.  
  
"That I don't." She said looking up at him. "Why? What do you need now?"  
  
" A big spoon will do, no don't get up." Jim said, as she began to uncurl her legs. "I'll go get it. Just keep getting those bottles dry. They need to be very dry for this to work." He got up and went to retrieve the item in question.  
  
"I still think this isn't a good idea." Blair murmured.  
  
"I heard that, Sandburg." Jim's voice came back to them. Sam's staccato laugh rippled out.  
  
"I think it's the best idea I've heard all week! Give him a little taste of his own medicine."  
  
"Sam, this guy is a killer." Blair cautioned. Sam shot him a hazel-eyed glare.  
  
"You don't have to remind me." She hissed back at him.  
  
"We need to be careful around him. Don't get too carried away with this."  
  
"What? Blowing his stash around his ears so he can't get to it?" She shot back. "I want to see him go down, Blair. He used me and manipulated me out of that position down in Monterey. Then crowed as if I was some sort of trophy. If it wasn't for the rehabilitation project I would have tried to get my job back down there, but it was too late. So I stayed on and finished that job, then this new position came up in Cascade. It was my chance to get the hell away from him and what does he do? He lures me back out and tries to blow me up as well. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt he was gonna try and get the Sundogs after what he did. Now he wants whatever's in that ridge?" Sam leaned forward keeping Blair's eye.  
  
"I'll do whatever's necessary to stop him."  
  
"But with a little moderation." Jim said, patting her briefly on the head. She nearly jumped out of her skin. "We'll catch him and make sure he goes down for a long time, but we can't be too hasty."  
  
"You got that right." Blair agreed.  
  
"I just want him stopped." Sam said. Jim smiled, sitting back down and balancing a dinner plate on his knees.  
  
"All right Sam, take the driest of the bottles and begin filling them with flour." Jim instructed. "Leave about three quarters of an inch available at the top." He reached down, taking an empty in his hand. "When you get it full, start tapping it against the deck like this." He rapped the bottom of the bottle on the deck. "Make sure the flour gets packed down." He handed the bottle to her then reached out, his long fingers snagging a metal funnel.  
  
"Go to it." He said. Sam grinned, took the funnel then pulled over a five gallon plastic container she had full of flour. With it sitting between her crossed legs she began neatly scooping flour into the bottles. Jim, meanwhile, dumped a few matches from a new box onto the plate and took up his spoon.  
  
"The idea here," he said, carefully scrutinizing the items he had. "Is to get the sulfur and stuff off the match sticks without igniting them." The cousins both watched as he deftly manipulated the convex side of the spoon over the match tips. A satisfying little snap and crunch followed. Jim could tell instantly just how much of his hyperactive senses he was using. Just his touch alone could tell him how much pressure to apply to get the matches to crumble without igniting them. In seconds Jim had a smooth rhythm going and began to fill a small bowl with crushed match tips and yet another with useless sticks.  
  
"What we'll do Chief, is move this boat as close to the mouth of that stream as we can. How close can you get us in to shore?" he asked Sam. Busily rapping a full bottle of flour on the deck she replied,  
  
"Draft is 4'9". I can get us to within a few feet of shore, so long as there is no low tide."  
  
"Draft?" Jim asked.  
  
"Keel, Jim. We could sit, uneasily, in about 7 feet of water." Blair replied. Jim nodded as he crunched match tips.  
  
"I'll direct you from the boat here, on where best to set these bombs. We can use the cell phone to talk. I'll talk, you listen. What you'll need to do is dig into the side of the ravine at an angle. Got any kind of a shovel on board?" he asked Sam.  
  
"Not really."  
  
"What can we use to dig with?" he asked as she set aside one bottle and started on another.  
  
"Spoons, I guess." she replied. Jim scowled.  
  
"You don't have a clam shovel on this tub?" Blair asked, forming a neat pyramid of shaved candles on the cutting board.  
  
"No, I got rid of that ages ago. I do have my clam gun though. And what are you calling a tub?"  
  
"A clam gun?!" Jim laughed.  
  
"It's not what you think, Jim!" Blair chuckled, especially at needling his cousin.  
  
"Unless you feel like hunting for geoducks." Sam cracked back. She held both hands out about two feet apart, one hand full of a flour coated bottle.  
  
"Suckers can get this big, you need something to shoot them with."  
  
"Now who's telling fish stories?" Jim asked.  
  
"Oh C'mon, Jim, you've heard of geoducks. They're huge!" Blair protested.  
  
"You can't live on the Washington coast without hearing about them." Jim said patiently. "I also know you can't catch them with a clam gun."  
  
"They're also a delicacy, raw or cooked." Blair said slowly, looking thoughtful.  
  
"Don't even think of bringing one of those obscene things into the loft, Chief. You and it will be out the door."  
  
"But Jim, the native Indians around here considered geoduck to be the piece-de-la-resistance to culinary seafood. You've gotta try it! It's got a subtle flavor unlike anything you've ever tasted."  
  
"I've had a few of your counterculture experiments, Sandburg. That's why the leftovers are going to remain color coded."  
  
Sam suddenly began laughing.  
  
"Color coded?" She burst out. "You've got to be joking!"  
  
"Only way I can eat safely at home." Jim growled. Her funny little laugh bubbled all around them.  
  
"Maybe that clam gun isn't such a bad idea though." Jim mused, smiling at Sam's amusement. "It'll poke out a narrow hole and you can set the bottles down into it. That'll keep them out of the wind, if it comes up at all and get us deep enough into the cliff face to bring the ridge down."  
  
"Providing I don't hit any rocks or roots trying to auger my way into the cliff face. Those things were made for sand remember?"  
  
"Then taking a big spoon with you won't be such a bad idea."  
  
"Who volunteered me for this duty anyway?" Blair asked.  
  
"Yeah?" Sam asked. "I'll go do it!"  
  
"Not a chance." Jim shook his head. "I can't get too close to that site, and you." he looked pointedly at Sam. "You still need time to recover from those cuts. Blair's the only one among us healthy enough to climb up that ridge and dig."  
  
"When was the last time you visited the gang at Cascade General anyway?" Sam suddenly asked. Jim laughed in response.  
  
"You mean I'm not the only one hauling you in and out of that place?"  
  
"You guys are funny." Blair replied sourly. "The last time, I think, was well over a year ago when Ventriss was making my life miserable."  
  
"A year ago?" Sam burst. "No way!"  
  
"Way!" Blair shot back.  
  
"That's got to be some sort of record for you. Who is Ventriss?" she asked.  
  
"Convicted murderer." Jim replied. "Tried to get away with it and run for the border with his girlfriend."  
  
"What'd he do to you?"  
  
"Used me as a punching bag." Blair grumbled.  
  
"Well, his hired thugs did anyway." Jim corrected. Sam shook her head.  
  
"You guys got more of these stories?"  
  
"A few too many." Blair replied, sighing. "And it appears I am the only one healthy enough to set these bombs. So I get up there and set them into the cliff face, then what?"  
  
"Light the candles and get back to the boat, then watch for the results." Jim said, tapping the latest pile of matchtips into his bowl, he shook out some more matches onto the plate and continued crushing them.  
  
"Why are we using flour for this anyway?" Sam asked.  
  
"It's combustible. Pack some of these matchtips on top of the flour, add a detonator to ignite, make sure everything is sealed and packed tight and .Boom!" His blue eyes glinted.  
  
"Oh the things you can learn to make in your kitchen!" Sam chortled, beginning on a third bottle.  
  
"Don't ever try this at home." Jim replied dryly. Both cousins began to laugh.  
  
Longhouse Site, Predawn, Saturday Morning.  
  
The sky had just barely begun to lighten when Blair sat back with a sigh, wiping one arm across his forehead. He was wedged between an old stump and a clump of salal 20 feet above the entrance to the site. He was beyond tired, his fingers and arms ached from the exertion of digging holes for nearly half the night, his legs and back ached from keeping him perched on the ridge.  
  
"You got it there, Chief?" Jim's tinny voice asked from his pocket. Blair didn't need to bother with his cell phone. Jim was able to hear him fine from the Sundogs, now moored in front of the beach.  
  
"Last one Jim." Blair replied tiredly. He dragged the two foot long metal tube that was the clam gun across his legs and looked back along his handiwork, what little he could see. "How's it look to you?"  
  
"Great, Chief. You could probably let your pack and that clam gun slide down to the base of the hill from where you are." Jim replied. Blair nodded, stuffing the spoon he had been using into his hip pocket and pulled out the last of eight flour bombs from his pack. He turned around carefully and let both the backpack and the clam gun go their way down the cliff face, waiting briefly for them to hit bottom. Turning back he carefully set his last bomb into the hole.  
  
"Okay Jim they're in place." he said.  
  
"Good job, Sandburg. You can start lighting them now and come back down the way you came up. It'll take about half an hour for those candles to melt down far enough to ignite the primer. Plenty of time for you to get back and get on board. Probably even enough time to get a shower too."  
  
"Think so?" Blair's plaintive voice reached his ears. "I feel like I'm wearing most of this cliff. Not to mention enough blackberry stickers."  
  
"You've earned it Chief. That's been some tough digging."  
  
"You said it." Blair said and stifled a yawn as he dug around in his shirt pocket for a match. Using just his jeans, he quickly swiped the match along his leg and cupped the tiny flame into his hand before reaching into another pocket and lighting a spare candle. With that as his igniter, he carefully lit the bombs, and moved along the precarious footholds Jim had found for him. At last he snuffed out his candle and made his way down the cliff, picked his way carefully along the base to retrieve his belongings, then followed the trail back to the beach.  
  
"So what's Sam been doing?" Blair asked as he made he way cautiously along in the darkness. Jim glanced down. Sam, curled up on the aft bench, was totally out. At one point Jim had retrieved a blanket and covered her with it.  
  
"She was out by the time you started digging the third hole."  
  
"You've got to be kidding!" Blair groused. "What was that, about 1a.m.? What time is it now?"  
  
"4:45a.m. Sun should be rising in about another half hour. And it was 1a.m. when we finished getting these bombs together, Chief."  
  
"Technicalities." Blair grumbled. Jim could finally see him coming without exerting his eyesight. "You wait, I'll find something nasty for her to do that'll keep her up past cock crowing while I sleep!"  
  
"She kinda needed it, Chief. It's why I didn't make her move."  
  
"She fall asleep behind the wheel again?!" Blair barked. Jim smiled.  
  
"Apparently this isn't the first time?" Jim asked, watching Blair pick his way carefully over the stream. Something odd niggled at Jim's attention.  
  
"Sam and that boat are like, one, in a Zen kinda way." Blair grumbled. Expecting a response, Blair glanced out at the Sundogs, when he didn't get it. Jim stood at the stern, leaning casually with one leg crossed over the other, into the starboard corner rails, arms folded, but his attention was elsewhere. His head was tipped sideways, obviously listening. Blair grinned slightly at the protective stance Jim had over Sam, who was an amorphous blob on the stern bench.  
  
"You hear something?" Blair asked, making his way to the dinghy.  
  
"Thought I heard a diesel engine.but it's too far away, or else this point protecting us is blocking my hearing."  
  
"Can you pinpoint it?" Blair asked. Jim shook his head, glancing back at Sandburg as he dumped his pack and clam gun in the dinghy and began scrubbing his hands and arms in the surf.  
  
"No, I can't. It could even be clear out in the channel." He sounded a little annoyed.  
  
"It could be Ritter too." Blair pointed out.  
  
"Hopefully." Jim replied. "Go ahead and cut the cell phone off, Chief. Save what little batteries you have left. Tide's getting ready to change here, in a bit. We'll need to move."  
  
"Gotcha, Jim." Blair replied as he pushed himself off shore. Minutes later he was sidled up alongside the Sundogs. Jim crouched down, reaching out a long arm to steady the little craft. Sam suddenly jerked, gasping, and sat up. She looked bleary-eyed at Blair, who was handing a rope to Jim, her dark blonde curls spilling haphazardly over her face and shoulders.  
  
"Sleep well?" Blair growled at her.  
  
"What?" she asked sleepily, trying to push her hair out of the way and groaning at the pain it caused. She swung her legs to the deck.  
  
"Did it go boom yet?" she asked in a sleepy voice. Jim grinned.  
  
"No, it hasn't gone boom yet." he reassured her. She nodded, stifling a yawn as she shoved away the blanket. Jim took Blair's things as they were handed to him.  
  
"We're gonna need to move soon, Sam." Blair said, as he scrambled from the dinghy to the sailboat.  
  
"Man, you look like you did when you ran into that anteater down in Paraguay that one summer." She said, taking in Blair's condition.  
  
"Don't mention that damn anteater!" Blair grumbled, trying to get the majority of sticks and twigs out of his short curls.  
  
"One of these days. One of you is going to tell me that story." Jim said with certainty.  
  
"Sam, I will gag you if you say one word." Blair said as Jim shooed him towards the cabin. Blair bent, pulling off a sneaker and dumping it to one side. "I want a shower, then bed, I've earned it," he added and tugged off the other shoe; his socks quickly followed, then his shirt. Clothes were strewn about the deck.  
  
"Make it quick, Chief. I figure those candles will be reaching the primer in about another ten minutes." Jim said, grinning as Blair disappeared into the cabin. Pausing until he heard the water pump kick on he looked at Sam who was trying to reach the side of the dinghy.  
  
"What are you doing?" he asked sharply.  
  
"I want to secure this thing to the stern, the drag can waste fuel," she said.  
  
"I'll get it. While I do, I want to know about this anteater."  
  
"You mean the one Blair was trying to practice using bola's on?"  
  
"There's more than one?" Jim asked, as he reached past her and began hauling the dinghy up out of the water. Sam grinned  
  
"The gauchos taught us how to throw bola's when we down in Paraguay years ago. Blair decided he was going to try it out on an anteater my .." Sam stopped. She swallowed suddenly. "I had found." she lied. "The anteater didn't appreciate it. We suddenly found ourselves going on an interesting little trip."  
  
Jim frowned as he hauled the dinghy up flush with the stern of the boat, using the supports to hang on to. Sam scrambled for the oars. She showed him where to balance the little craft as she moved to the port side bench, lifting the cushion up. Why did Sam avoid the subject of her sister?  
  
"Hang on, I've got some bungee cords." she said, opening the hatch and grabbing them. Seconds later, they had the little boat securely strapped to the stern taffrails.  
  
"There, that ought to help conserve a little diesel." she said and turning to the wheel console.  
  
"We'd better get this thing moving, we're about to loose our flood tide." Jim said, still puzzled over Sam's reaction. She nodded as he moved the blanket away from the stern. He picked up the filet knife and set it across the top of the console.  
  
"Sandburg had better hurry if he wants to see this ridge come down." He commented as Sam started the anchor pulley. She glanced quickly around, looking out over the beach. The sky had grown considerably lighter.  
  
"Where's it gonna come down?" she asked. Jim pointed it out, just as Blair emerged on deck, in a clean pair of jeans and T-shirt furiously rubbing at his head with a towel.  
  
"Did it go yet?" he asked, padding barefoot to join them.  
  
"Not yet, any time now." Jim said, folding his arms and watching the ridge. He glanced at Blair, blank faced.  
  
"Bola's? On an anteater?" he asked, raising a curious eyebrow. Blair suddenly glared at Sam.  
  
"You little sh**, you told him!"  
  
"Told him what?" she shot back. "I barely got started before we decided to secure the dinghy!"  
  
"Sam! I don't need you feeding him stories. He'll have them told all over the bullpen and I'll be the laughingstock of the department."  
  
"Getting a little defensive are we, Chief?" Jim asked, tuning his hearing up, listening for a specific sound. "Besides you usually are the laughingstock of the department."  
  
"Jim, that really hurts!" Blair protested. Jim was suddenly lifting a hand.  
  
"Get ready!" he said, when he heard what he was listening for.  
  
All three stared at the ridge, waiting in anticipation. At first nothing happened. Several clouds of dirt abruptly burst like steam puffs from the mid point of the cliff face followed by the sound of a muffled explosion. Only Jim could make out the individual detonations. There came a slight pause then, like thick soapsuds sliding down a tile wall, a large section of the ridge suddenly loosened from the cliff and slipped down. An even larger cloud of dirt suddenly billowed up from the base of the cliff followed by the rumbling sounds of the landslide as the ridge completely buried the site.  
  
The sounds of whooping then echoed off the little cove as Blair gave vent, almost grabbing Sam, who was laughing in triumph. Jim smiled, beaming his approval when his hearing, usually attuned to certain sounds at all time, caught something familiar. His head swiveled hard left as Blair pumped a fist in victory.  
  
Focusing sharply, he spotted a lone individual high up on the point, close to where he and Blair had nearly tripped over the branch trap. A tall, slender man with black hair, graying at the temples with a salt and pepper beard, dressed in khakis, and wearing a back pack over his shoulders, faced them, his features contorted with rage. He also was hefting a .22 rifle, sighting through the scope, aiming at one particular person.  
  
"Down!" Jim suddenly bellowed, spinning. Both arms reached out, grabbing the two cousins and sweeping them down on the deck with him. There followed the sound of a high pitched buzz before a bullet lodged into the port side bench, mere inches above Sam's head. Blair covered his head, letting out a sharp yelp as Sam bit out a cry of pain.  
  
"Cabin! Move it!" Jim shouted, grabbing Blair by the shirt and pushing him towards the door. He didn't need further prompting. Keeping an arm over his head, he jerked the door open and tumbled inside. Meanwhile Jim grabbed a hold of Sam's arm.  
  
"C'mon!" Jim barked, pulling her across the deck.  
  
"What are you doing?" She gasped in agony, trying to pull out of his vise- like grip. Jim could hear the bolt on the .22 being worked again. He grabbed her jeans by the belt, practically picking her up, and shoved her towards the open cabin door like a sack of potatoes. Blair grabbed hold of her arm and pulled just as another bullet imbedded itself in the door. Sam let out a startled squeak, nearly falling on Blair as he caught her and pulled her in to safety. Jim piled in after them.  
  
"Was that." Blair gasped, holding Sam upright, who was groaning in pain, her knees wanting to collapse under her.  
  
"You son of a.." she started to gasp when she could catch enough air to breathe.  
  
"Your buddy Ritter's shooting at us." Jim snapped, "with a .22 rifle." He waved Blair away from the portholes as he peered out, trying to sight up on top of the point.  
  
"Oh great!" Blair snapped.  
  
"No kidding, we're sitting ducks and we have no gun!"  
  
"Try the flare gun!" Sam gritted out, her eyes squeezed shut at the pain. Blair glanced quickly at Jim who shot him a certain look. Blair steered Sam to the bunk, then hauled the cabin steps up out of the way. Dropping to his stomach, he shoved the hatch open then reached down inside the hold, triggering the motion sensitive light. He spied Sam's emergency flare gun. With a stretch, he grabbed it and tossed it up over his shoulder. Jim caught it neatly as Blair scrambled backwards. The hold door and stairs thunked rapidly into place and Jim was suddenly wedged in the doorway, peering carefully up over the roof at the point. He glanced down, checking the flare gun then aimed up over roof, bracing his arms on the cabin door. Sighting where Ritter stood, he fired.  
  
Looking like a small rocket, the flare streaked out across the cove, angling upwards, leaving a little trail of smoke behind. It tore through the bushes and embedded itself in a tree inches away from the man on the point, who flung himself sideways, tumbling and rolling to his feet. He scowled at the luminously burning flare, then down at the boat before snatching up the rifle and running back the way he had come.  
  
"Sh**!" Jim snarled, scrambling up on deck.  
  
"C'mon, let's get this thing moving! He's got to be going after his own boat." Jim called. Blair didn't even flinch he just moved, but then so did Sam. Despite the pain tearing at her shoulders she darted past Blair who was also looking towards the point.  
  
"You get back down inside!" Jim shouted as he scanned the tree line searching for his quarry.  
  
"Not on your life." she muttered, gritting her teeth at the pain. She scrambled behind the wheel, keying the ignition over. Slapping the wheel lock off, the satisfying gurgle of the diesel engine turning over rose to greet them from the depths. Sam grabbed the wheel, aiming the bow towards open water. The Sundogs surged forward.  
  
"Sam, I can handle the boat, get back down inside!" Blair snapped, trying to move her past the wheel.  
  
"Not a chance, Blair." she snarled, pushing him back with her arm.  
  
"You don't have choice!" Jim barked, glaring at her.  
  
"Guess again, Jimbo!" she said, eyeing the depth finder and adjusting the wheel to miss a grouping of underwater rocks.  
  
"This isn't the time to argue about it!" Blair snapped, shoving her arm aside. "That guy out there is wanting you dead!"  
  
"He can damn well try then." Sam snapped back, still pushing Blair away.  
  
"Sandburg! Either you get her below or I will." Jim threatened just as they began to make their way around the point.  
  
Lying to starboard in a larger bay was a 25' power cruiser. Scanning around, Jim spotted Ritter running like hell down the other side of the point, occasionally sliding as he made haste to get down the hill. The Sundogs diesel engine, not made for speed, seemed to keep them at a crawl as Jim watched Ritter make it to a beached, inflatable Zenith. His hearing instantly caught the sounds of the motor starting. Seconds later the Zenith streaked its way over the water towards the cruiser. He scowled in frustration, turned to see Sam still behind the wheel, and shouted at Blair.  
  
"Get her below, Sandburg!"  
  
"Sam!" Blair snapped, reaching for his cousin. Her hand snaked forward.  
  
"We need to block his way out of this bay!" Jim barked, watching as Ritter gained the cruiser. He heard a suspicious sounding snick then Blair suddenly sucked in air and backed up.  
  
"Whoa! Sam!" he snarled at her as Jim angrily looked their way. Sam had the filet knife out and up, barely three inches away from Blair's nose.  
  
"I'm manning this boat." she snarled at Blair, her kaleidoscopic eyes, spinning. Forgetting Ritter, Jim started forward and suddenly found himself facing the filet knife.  
  
"Touch me again, and you'll be picking that hand up off the deck." Sam growled in a low warning, turning the wheel, left handed, her eyes unblinking.  
  
"We haven't got time to mess with this sh**!" Jim snarled and began to move towards her, before the other boat starting up caught his attention. His head spun around. He watched as Ritter scrambled aboard the cruiser, kicking the Zenith away from him.  
  
"Sam, you damned fool, what are you doing!" Blair snapped at her, trying to draw her attention.  
  
"Save it, Blair!"  
  
"Sandburg.." Jim growled, "If you can't get this rig into the mouth of the bay at least get me close enough to get on board his boat!" Jim had noticed the sailboat beginning to veer more towards open water. The wind was beginning to pick up as they entered more open space. Jim glared at Samantha.  
  
"Do you want to catch him?" He snapped, seeing that Sam had no intention whatsoever of blocking the cruiser. Instead the cruiser was beginning to pick up speed, gaining on them.  
  
"I'm getting us a more level playing field." she said and glanced at Blair.  
  
"Don't just stand there, cuz. Grab the lines." Blair glared at her.  
  
"Sh**!" he spat and bent down, snatching up the mainsail line. He spun around, whipping the line around the port capstan.  
  
"What the hell are you doing!?!" Jim snapped at him.  
  
"Let it loose." Blair snarled at his cousin.  
  
"Wait a second, you're not running up that sail? If he gets close enough I can get on board his boat." Jim snarled. He heard a sound of something metallic releasing and Blair began hauling on the rope.  
  
"You." Sam snapped at Jim, "Had better duck and dive for the high side of this boat before you get jibbed!"  
  
"Jibbed?" he snapped in confusion. At about that moment the mainsail caught a gust of wind.  
  
Blair pulling hard on the line with one hand, wrapped the line around a cleat with the other, letting the wind catch the sail. With a loud snap the canvas billowed outward, blooming like a giant white puffball. The boom suddenly swung hard to port. Seeing it move, Jim barely had time to throw himself down on the deck as the weighty horizontal beam swung viciously over his head. At the same time, the Sundogs tilted precariously while anything loose inside the cabin crashed with an almighty clatter. Jim, unprepared, began to roll; unfortunately he was on the down side of the boat.  
  
"Blair, get the jib up!" Sam barked as Jim abruptly found himself lying along the port taffrail, face to face with the water. He stared at it in surprise, realizing the Sundogs was gaining a tremendous amount of speed and he was dangerously close to being spilled out into the drink. Catching a wave just right, Jim was suddenly drenched in cold seawater. Gasping at the shock, his fingers curled around the rail, he shook his head, sending water flying. He shoved himself upright, ducking under the sail.  
  
"Get on the roof!" Sam snapped at him, "On the high side of the boat, your weight will keep us from keeling over. Blair, I need that jib up!"  
  
"What the hell are you doing!?!" Jim snapped, grabbing hold of the doorway and trying to stay upright. The Sundogs slowly began to right herself. Somehow the cruiser got left behind, but was definitely in pursuit.  
  
"Jim, I'd suggest staying on the higher side of the boat." Blair warned as Jim began clawing his way to the starboard side of the boat. Blair started edging past him, also on the upside, grasping the rail, and heading for the bow.  
  
"Brace your feet on the roof, as close to the mast as you can." Sam snapped.  
  
"I don't need you telling me what to do!" Jim suddenly barked at her, shaking water out of his face.  
  
"Fine, prepare to take a bath the minute we hit open ocean, 'cause when the off shore winds catch us you aren't gonna have time to argue." Sam said, manning the wheel.  
  
They were abruptly in the Principe Channel, the buoys from the Denali's sinking whizzing past them. The sailboat gathered speed as Blair dug into the forward hatch and snapped on a second sail to the bowsprit and the mast. Backing away towards starboard, Blair let the wind also catch it, pulling hard on the lines. It reeled out of the hold like a live snake, snapping and billowing out, catching the wind. Blair whipped the line around a cleat, anchoring it. Before the Sundogs could tip even further over, Sam spun the wheel, adjusting the rudder to right the vessel and preventing it from tipping even further to port. The Sundogs seemed to pick itself up and skim over the waves.  
  
Sam looked quickly over her shoulder to starboard aft. Behind them Ritter's cruiser followed after them.  
  
"That's it Howard, you just follow me." she murmured.  
  
"Is this some sort of game?" Jim shouted at her angrily, one arm draped over the rail, both hands clutching it and his feet braced against the edges of the cabin roof. He could feel the boat straining to tip to port. Blair, leaning hard to starboard, holding the rail the same as Jim, edged around him, making his way back to the stern. Sam ignored him as she shifted to starboard herself holding the wheel in her left hand.  
  
"You better have a damned good explanation for this!" Blair snapped at her.  
  
"You think for one minute I'm gonna risk this boat being rammed by that?" she said, jerking her head at the cruiser. "I'd never have the speed to get around him unless I can get us into open water; there we'll have a chance."  
  
"It's not up for you to decide! For cryin' out loud Sam, that guy wants you, and I suspect us, DEAD!" he hollered.  
  
"You'd better start tackin' that sail to port Blair or these winds are gonna start blowing us back into him."  
  
"That's exactly what we should be doing!" Jim yelled, loosing a hand briefly to pull at his wet T-shirt. He ran the same hand down his face, getting the rest of the water out of his eyes.  
  
"I just need to get a little further into this channel then we can cut up the west side of Banks Island." Sam murmured, reaching over carefully and cutting off the engine. Blair began adjusting the rope, the boom swaying as he maneuvered the mainsail.  
  
The Sundogs sped rapidly on a diagonal, southerly direction, bypassing a cluster of islands to their left. Banks Island, west of Pitt, loomed on their right. For a few seconds the boat seemed to slow as the winds tried blowing it back inland, but Blair's careful hands on the mainsail, with Sam on the wheel, kept the craft angling south and west, sending it past the southern tip of the island. Jim, jaw firmly clenched, could feel the need for his weight on the starboard side rail, as the Sundogs continued to tip more and more. He could see they were also heading into a cluster of sea- stacks. Glancing aft, he saw Ritter's cruiser still in pursuit, only he was trying to cut some of the distance by angling towards their obvious route.  
  
"Try and let him get alongside of us!" Jim shouted, wanting nothing more than to take his frustration out on something. He leaned further over the rail, swinging around to brace his back against it, feet wedged against the roof of the cabin.  
  
"It's gonna get tricky, Blair." Sam warned, as the boat slowed a little more.  
  
"Shut up and just man that wheel!" he growled at her, concentrating on the sails. The Sundogs shot past the sea-stacks. "Jim! Get ready to dive for the opposite side of the boat!" Blair yelled.  
  
"Get ready! Get ready!" Sam warned. Sam, with the bow aimed towards open sea, waited until the Sundogs crested a wave then suddenly spun the wheel, diving for the port side of the boat. Blair, feeling the tension on the ropes, let the mainsail go at the precise moment. He dove for the port rail. The Sundogs rose up out of the water, righting itself momentarily, before the off shore winds caught the mainsail. The boom swung like a pendulum, whistling as it rushed over the heads of the cousins before being jerked to an abrupt halt by the lines and the mainsail as it snapped to starboard. The boat suddenly veered to the right.  
  
"Hang on Jim, we're gonna eat water on this one!" Blair warned as the Sundogs suddenly tipped dangerously to the right.  
  
Jim, still leaning into the starboard rail, shoved himself away from it as the Sundogs began to tip his way. He dove forward, scrambling to his feet as he climbed up the rising port side rails. Turning against the force, he braced his bare feet against the roof, desperately wrapping his arms around the upper rails. He clenched his jaw, the muscles across his arms and chest straining, as he shoved with everything he had to port. The Sundogs tilted wildly, the entire starboard rail and side decks burying themselves in the water only seconds after Jim had vacated the spot. Risking a quick glance over one shoulder, Jim could see the keel rising rapidly to the surface. He shoved himself up the rail, one foot now on the lower rung as he threw his weight backward over the top rail. A loud, long, angry, yell ripped out of his throat.  
  
Blair, meanwhile, with the mainsail rope looped around his hips, had climbed onto the port side rail itself, one leg over the rail, the other inside, and was tilted even further out than Jim, the tension from the rope preventing him from falling overboard. Jim, glared at him startled, but could see the look of grim determination on his partner's face. He was glad that at least one of them knew what they were doing.  
  
Three avenues presented themselves as the Sundogs spun around and tore madly back into the cluster of towering, narrow, columns, carved over the years by the winds, the rains, and the sea, into fingers of islands, crowned at their tops by whatever stray conifer seeds could land and sprout. Thousands of gulls, auks, and cormorants wheeled and cried, living and dying in an environment man rarely ever visited.  
  
Ritter's cruiser, unable to spin as quickly, veered away far to their left, determined to come around the grouping in the hope of cutting them off. Sam decided otherwise. Knowing Blair had control of the mainsail, she began steering the boat right, plowing through the tall pillars, taking advantage of the momentary diversion they created and aimed the Sundogs straight through the stacks and towards the open sea.  
  
Full off-shore winds, blowing northwesterly, caught the sails as they shot out past the sea-stacks, causing the boat to again tip dangerously. Jim swallowed, seeing they were entering truly deep water with no land to their left and Banks Island alone on their right. The sea-stacks were growing very small as the Sundogs righted herself, settling down as Blair allowed the mainsail to swing in. All three looked for Ritter, who had dropped behind them, but was still in pursuit.  
  
Still grimly clinging to the port side rail, Jim finally looked at Sam. With a smile of triumph on her lips, her eyes hard, she adjusted the wheel, the Sundogs responding instantly. The boat flew over the water, almost skipping as it crested the waves and swells, the hard off shore winds pushing the sleek craft along. Amazingly, it had gained even more speed, beginning to leave Ritter's cruiser a good ways behind them. Realizing the boat was going to stay more or less stabilized, Blair dropped onto the deck, still handling the lines to the sail, but no longer needing to hang out as far he had been. Jim, seeing Blair move began to do the same, but found as he began to shift, that the boat began to tip.  
  
"I'd suggest you stay put." Sam warned. "Even here, you are the only thing keeping this boat level."  
  
"I want to know what the hell you think you're doing!" he yelled at her.  
  
"You want to catch him?" she snapped back. "We'll catch him in more open water. I can't maneuver as well in a cove.open water is better. And if we can get him to follow us around Banks and Dolphin Island, we'll be able to catch him right on Prince Rupert's doorstep."  
  
"It isn't up to you to decide!" Jim shouted back. "If you'd've just stayed in that damn cove I could have caught him!"  
  
"With him shooting at us? At least out here he has to man his craft and not the damn rifle!" Sam argued. "And I'm not letting this boat be used as a blockade or letting her get rammed for anyone!"  
  
"Sam, this isn't the time to be going about doing things your way!" Blair snarled at her.  
  
"When it comes to this boat," Sam snapped back, pointing at the deck. "We do things my way."  
  
"Sandburg!" Jim growled. "Remind me to have a little discussion about authority IF we get out of this mess!"  
  
"Before or after I strangle her?" Blair shot back.  
  
"Can you raise Olssen on that radio?!" Jim demanded. "He said he'd be heading to Pitt Island in the morning. Get an SOS out, have them meet us!"  
  
Blair looked like a light went off in his head. Juggling the rope around he tied it off then turned and snatched the mike off the wheel console unit. Thumbing the button on its side, he lifted it and barked.  
  
"Mayday, Mayday, Mayday! This is the Sundogs, I repeat, this is the Sundogs!" As he shouted out the particulars, he wrestled with the lines. Sam, struggled with the wheel, watching the bow and the great swells heaving up around them. Her eyes suddenly grew huge.  
  
"Hang on!" she yelled as the sailboat dove down a trough. Rising up the opposite side, the bow buried itself partially in the curling crest of a wave. A wall of sea-green water split and sprayed ice cold water over all three of them as the boat shot up past the wave and resumed its flight.  
  
Blair was letting out a blood curdling screech as they emerged, dropping the mike, and grabbing for the lines. Sam clung determinedly to the wheel while Jim hung on for dear life. His bellow of 'Oh sh**!' getting drowned out by the sudden dunking in cold water. All three were soaked to the skin.  
  
"SAM!" Blair spluttered, angrily. "Pay attention to what you're doing!"  
  
"You mean to tell me you aren't!?!" Jim yelled, his blue eyes glaring death at her.  
  
"Sometimes you can't avoid them!" she snapped back. Blair shook water out of his face.  
  
"You could have if you were manning that wheel properly!" he snarled.  
  
"I'm handling this wheel just fine!" she retorted in return, trying to pull wet strands of hair out of her eyes. However, her muffled groan of pain didn't escape Jim's ears.  
  
"Like hell you are!" he shouted. "Sandburg, she can barely handle that thing! Her shoulders won't let her."  
  
"What the hell am I supposed to do about it?" Blair raged back. "I can't man the lines and the wheel at the same time. Not in these kind of waters, it's too rough!"  
  
"Who's saying I can't handle this wheel?" Sam retorted, adjusting the rudder to avoid another trough.  
  
"Sam, so help me.when I get a hold of you, you are going to be so black and blue!" Blair threatened. "You are gonna rue the day you were born. Not only am I gonna hog-tie you one, I'm gonna." Blair began, listing off a colorful string of threats.  
  
Jim, meanwhile, strained as the Sundogs tried to tip starboard, arching his back over the top rail. He felt as if every muscle in his arms, back, and chest, were on fire from the exertion of having to help keep the boat upright. Cautiously he unwound his arm from the rail, wiping at the water on his face then running it over his hair to keep it back. He then reached behind him, grabbed his handcuffs and proceeded to slap one end around his wrist before he snapped the other end to the rail.  
  
"Sandburg!" he yelled, trying to break off the tirade erupting between the two cousins.  
  
"When I want your opinion Sam, I'll give you one!" Blair was snapping at her.  
  
"I just want the guy caught red-handed!" she blew back. Jim's eyes rolled.  
  
"You aren't the brightest crayon in the box, Sam! You've amply proven that this week. You know, maybe I will sit in on the reaming out you're gonna get for this stunt you've pulled, just so I can watch you squirm!" Blair growled at her. "And when this tub gets into port, I'm gonna burn so much sage inside of it to get rid of the negative vibes that it's gonna smell like a pizzeria for months!"  
  
"Come anywhere near this boat with even a leaf of sage and I'll personally keelhaul you!" she snapped back.  
  
"ENOUGH!" Jim bellowed. Blair looked up at him, as Sam scowled and glanced over her shoulder at the pursuing cruiser.  
  
"Sandburg, will you please get a hold of Olssen!" Jim snarled. Blinking once, Blair suddenly looked sheepish, then glared at Sam as he reached down and grabbed the mike. He began calling for Olssen.  
  
As Blair contacted the Mountie, Jim glanced at Sam. She was glued to the wheel, shifting and holding it as they sailed at breakneck speed, trying to avoid hitting the troughs. All three were drenched to the skin, but both men seemed to have shrugged off the effects. Sam on the other hand, was literally shaking, both from exertion and from the cold. Her teeth were beginning to chatter. Jim could also see her movements getting sluggish.  
  
"Sundogs, I repeat, do not go past Dolphin Island, turn after Banks." Olssen's voice crackled over the radio. Blair was looking at Sam. "Help is on the way."  
  
"You heard him, Sam." Blair's voice, low and insistent, was urging. "He caught our Mayday. Turn after Banks. They'll be waiting for us. We can catch Ritter there."  
  
She glanced at him, for once not biting out a response. Finally, she nodded her head.  
  
"All right." she said, cringing as they skimmed past the edge of a deep trough, the boat listed slightly, avoiding it. Blair wanted to collapse with relief.  
  
"Olssen, we're turning in, our buddy is still on our tail." He snapped into the mike, looking aft. Ritter seemed to have gained some distance on them.  
  
"Ohhhhh!" Sam started. "Hang on!" she warned.  
  
Jim glanced up in time to see an enormous wall of green water rising up. As any sight of land disappeared, he felt his throat constricting as his fear of deep water tried to exert itself. Blair dropped the mike and flung an arm around the port rail as Sam wrapped hers around the wheel. The bow plunged into the crest, water spraying every which way before shooting out the opposite side. Jim's yell of near terror and protest was drowned out as they all were slapped by the water. Both Jim and Sam were coughing as the Sundogs continued on, only Sam was hauling herself back to her feet, clinging to the wheel, and trying to spin it to avoid hitting another. Blair was instantly in her face.  
  
"Watch what the hell you're doing!" he shouted, groping for the mike again. Jim looked again at Sam, who was white as a sheet, trying to control her coughing and man the wheel. She looked like a proverbial wet rat. As Blair tried to raise Olssen again, he suddenly looked at the mike in disgust, and pounded it on the console before trying to raise the Mountie again.  
  
"Great! You shorted the damn thing out!" he yelled. Sam didn't respond, she kept her eyes fixed on the waters ahead of them, grimly maneuvering the wheel to keep them from capsizing or being swamped. Handling the lines, Blair tried several different combinations of channels on the radio before dropping the mike in disgust.  
  
"Is it out?" Jim demanded, watching his partner.  
  
"It's gone!" Blair barked out in disgust as he backed away from the console, manipulating the sail line like he was flying a kite. Jim swore, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders. Blair began splitting his attention between the sail and the waters ahead of them.  
  
"Port, Sam!" he snapped as they skirted around a trough almost going down it. Sam, trying to shake wet hair and water off her face, spun the wheel left, yet her movements seemed to be growing slower. A quick glance at her and Blair could see the pain written all over her face. Swearing under his breath, he switched the lines to his other hand and reached over to the wheel.  
  
"C'mon! Steady that thing!" he said, helping her to hold the wheel. "Okay, okay, a little to starboard now, c'mon, hold it, hold it!"  
  
Jim watched for several long minutes as Blair, half-cajoling, half- bullying, urged Samantha on, helping to steady the wheel and manipulate the mainsail. To his relief, Blair was also angling the Sundogs towards Banks Island.  
  
"Starboard, Sam, that's it! Hold her steady, don't let her move yet! Okay shift, big trough dead ahead, go to port, hold her there!" Jim, fully concentrating on maintaining his tenuous position, risked looking aft, and frowned slightly at the cruiser. Ritter was gaining on them. His ears heard something familiar and he glanced up, searching momentarily, then fixing his eyes on an approaching airborne object.  
  
"Coast Guard's spotted us!" he called out to Blair.  
  
"Hold her, Sam, steer starboard! C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!" his partner was growling, "We're losing some of this wind, it's slackening! We're not that far away from the tip of the island. Hold that damn wheel!"  
  
At that point, Blair's sails seemed to slacken just a bit. He instantly let go of the wheel, grabbing the line and tacking, catching more wind. Jim could feel the Sundogs tipping. He leaned hard, back over the rail, yelling his frustration at the toll it exacted on him. Sam, struggling to maintain the wheel's position, hit another trough and bathed them all, again. The wall of water hitting them was so strong, Jim was neatly cart- wheeled right over the rail. Blair and Sam came out of the dunking, spluttering and spitting seawater. Sam, both arms wrapped around the wheel, literally hung off of it. Blair struggled to his feet, switched hands again, and scooped his arm under hers and hauled her back to her feet.  
  
"Hold it to starboard, Sam, hold to starboard!" He urged, letting her go and adding his hand to the wheel. Blair glanced towards Jim and almost let out a scream.  
  
Jim wasn't were he should've been.  
  
Literally hanging off the port side of the boat, Jim's cuffed hand was clenched around the chain. Grimly, he slapped hold of the lower rail, attempting to pull himself up the side of the boat. However, the Sundogs tipped starboard, hauling him up out of the water and all he could do was hang on. Looping an arm back over the lower rail, he let the rest his body trail along in the water as the boat begin to lean to port. He shook water out of his face, waiting a moment for the boat to settle, even briefly. Blair, helpless to go to him, allowed the sail to slacken. Reaching over with his free hand, Blair grabbed the wheel.  
  
"Port, Sam, Quick! Hold her there!" Sam struggled to comply, still coughing up water. They both shifted as the boat began to veer to the left. Jim, seeing what Blair was doing, waited as the Sundogs leaned further towards him, then began to scramble back over the rails.  
  
"Ok! Starboard, starboard, starboard! Easy, easy!" Blair cajoled, as they began to steer the wheel to the right. The Sundogs creaked ominously at the abrupt shift in position, her port side beginning to rise in the air, hauling Jim back up out of the water. He tumbled back into the boat, his cuffed wrist and arm getting wrenched around. He was panting in exertion, now collapsed against the rail, still clinging to the cuff chain.  
  
"Jim!" Blair shouted. Ellison reached up to run a hand down his face.  
  
"I'm all right!" he yelled back, "Just get this thing closer to shore!"  
  
Just at that moment, the Sundogs came up the side of an enormous roller, her bow actually rising up out of the water, as she seemed to go airborne.  
  
Gravity exerted itself and the Sundogs crashed back down into the swell with a bone jarring slap. It literally knocked Samantha off her feet. Blair stumbled, almost losing the sail lines as he threw his weight to port, to keep the boat from tipping too far to starboard. Jim, meanwhile, wrapped his arms back around the rail, braced his feet against the roof, and held on.  
  
"Get up Sam!" Blair yelled, tacking the sail, trying to catch the wind, which was still slackening. Sam held on to the wheel, struggling to get her feet under her. The position of the wheel was continuing to keep them hard starboard. Only Blair's manipulation of the sail at that point kept the boat on a long, curving, right path. He could see the end of Banks Island rapidly approaching. Blair juggled the ropes around again, reached out and pulled Sam back to her feet; she groaned in pain.  
  
"C'mon Sam, hold that wheel, turn us to port a little before we smack into those stacks. Hold her steady, Sam!" Blair urged. He risked a cautious glance aft.  
  
Ritter's cruiser, somehow, had shifted to their port side, still aft of them but rapidly approaching as they continued to lose more wind. Blair looked forward, trying in vain to see if any boats were actually heading their way.  
  
"Jim!" he yelled. "Can you see anyone else?!" Blair looked over at him. Jim, in the process of trying to work the key into his handcuffs, was wincing in pain. He looked up quickly, scanning their horizon. Blair could see Jim holding his entire arm awkwardly, almost as if trying to tuck it into his side.  
  
"Jim?" he called out, his attention now split between Sam and Jim.  
  
"I'm all right. Just keep this boat level!" he shouted back, working the cuff loose from the rail. Gingerly he worked his wrist around, undoing the metal around it as he leaned back into the rail. He winced again as he looped his arm back over the rail, reaching behind him with his other hand to secure his cuffs. He scanned the horizon again. The rolling of the water wasn't helping even his extraordinary vision in catching a glimpse of any other boats. "All I've spotted is the Coast Guard chopper!"  
  
"They gotta be close by!" Blair replied, "that helicopter ain't out here for sightseeing!" He turned back to Sam.  
  
"Okay Sam, help is nearby. Keep us a little to starboard, heading northeast, just keep us holding steady, and let Ritter come at us, if necessary. Jim and I can handle him, you just keep this boat moving." Sam glanced at him, bobbed her head and focused her attention back on the bow of her boat.  
  
"What do you think?" Blair called out, looking at his partner. Jim was looking aft, watching Ritter's cruiser as it gained on them. He was angling further out and away from their position.  
  
"I think he's gonna try to ram us, judging from where he's headed."  
  
"No!" Sam's voice suddenly cried out.  
  
"You stay out of this!" Blair snapped in warning, then added. "We won't let him hit us. If we can get him to draw alongside us, one of us can get into his boat and stop him. We can try to catch him now, Sam." He looked her in the eyes. "Sammy? We can get him now.we're moving fast enough and you have plenty of room." Sam glanced at him again, her eyes searching his face for a split second, then she nodded.  
  
"Okay." she gasped, seeming to deflate a little before his eyes, her shoulders dropping. "I can handle it.just keep the sails full."  
  
"Jim? Have you spotted anyone else yet?"  
  
"Not yet, Sandburg!" Jim growled testily. "These waves are still rough enough not to give me a good look at our horizon. I'll keep an ear out for them though."  
  
Their course brought them round the tip of Banks Island. Low, on the horizon due north, rose a small land mass that was the island blocking Prince Rupert from the direct off-shore winds. To the Sundogs' starboard side rose the point of Banks Island followed by the smaller McCauley Island, which marked the northwestern entrance of the Principe Channel. To the northeast lay a scattering of smaller islands, actually little more than oversized sea-stacks. The Sundogs, gradually losing speed as the winds died down, curved in a long turn, rapidly passing Banks Island, as she headed for the cluster of islets.  
  
Sam grimly clung to the wheel, shaking from the exertion of holding the wheel firmly in place against a rudder that wanted to do otherwise. The pain from her wounded shoulders had spread its way down her back and into her legs. Long, bedraggled, wet, hair clung to her face, and try as she might, there was no shaking it out of the way against her sorely punished shoulders.  
  
Blair continued manipulating the sails, trying madly to keep them full as the winds continued to slacken. He glanced aft, not seeing Ritter's cruiser, but his own hearing now picking up the sounds of the motor. He looked port spotting the other boat as Ritter brought the cruiser about, beginning to angle towards the Sundogs.  
  
"S.O.B. is smiling at us," Jim announced, also watching as Ritter began to aim towards them. "He thinks we've made a mistake." Blair snorted, casting a quick look at Jim. He was intently studying the cruiser. Sam risked a cautious glance at the boat.  
  
"Oh noo." She moaned, shifting the wheel slightly, bringing their bearing even further starboard.  
  
"Sam!" Blair growled, "Keep us steady. Let him come at us!"  
  
"I'm not gonna let her get rammed!" Sam's strained voice responded, trying to hold the wheel in its new position. Blair's hand reached over and hauled it back.  
  
"Blair!" she protested.  
  
"Hold it here!" he said firmly, refusing to let go of his grip. "When the time comes.heave to," he warned, looking at her. Jim frowned, hearing them.  
  
"What?"  
  
"It'll bring him alongside us.Just get ready, Jim." Still looking puzzled, Jim looked up, his head turning starboard.  
  
"I think I hear the others." he said, tipping his head slightly, trying to catch the new sound.  
  
"I think you better forget that!" Blair warned. He let go of the wheel as he tacked the mainsail, the boom swinging out at nearly a right angle to the boat. He tried in vain to keep the mainsail full, letting the rope play out. Sam wasn't prepared for him to let go and the wheel suddenly spun. Still clinging to the wheel, it tried to throw her left. She was slammed into Blair as the Sundogs began shifting to port.  
  
Sam!" Blair raged, trying to push her back to her feet. He began hauling the boom back in, trying to bring it back over the deck.  
  
"No!" she yelled, stumbling, and grabbing for the wheel, trying hard to pull it back. Jim shoved himself forwards, grabbing the mast.  
  
"Keep this boat upright!" he shouted.  
  
The Sundogs, however, had swung to port.  
  
All three looked left. Ritter's cruiser was rapidly gaining now. They all could hear the thrumming of the diesel and the pounding of the boat as it hit the waves. He was bearing directly on them, aiming amidships, fully intending on running them straight through.  
  
"Sh**!" Blair snapped, trying to keep the sails full, he looked at Samantha, desperately trying to haul the wheel to starboard.  
  
"We can't let him ram her!" she was breathing under her breath, "We can't let him ram her!"  
  
"Sandburg!" Jim snapped, now standing on the roof, one arm around the mast. He had quickly sized up the situation. There was no way they could avoid getting hit.  
  
"Use the dinghy and get her off this boat!"  
  
"No!" Sam snapped, leaning her weight into the wheel. Blair made a quick decision. Seeing that Sam had left the knife on the console, he grabbed it.  
  
"Jim!" he shouted urgently, causing his partner to look his way. Ellison was still gripping the mast, but had to lean left as the boat tipped further to starboard.  
  
"Cut the jib lose!" he yelled and threw the knife.  
  
Only by virtue of the fact that Jim's heightened senses, coupled with his eye-hand coordination, was he able to catch the knife as it spun towards him. Ritter's boat was so close now they could all easily see him bearing down on them.  
  
"Blair, NO!!" Sam screamed. Blair only glanced at her, briefly, with a look full of sorrow.  
  
He then reached over, just as Jim severed the jib sail, dropped his lines, almost at the same time he grabbed the wheel, pulling it hard starboard and holding it there.  
  
For a long, brief, frozen minute Sam watched in horror as Ritter bore down on them. Her eyes watching in appalled fascination as the mainsail deflated and dropped like a falling sheet to the deck, the roller sucking it back in. The jib, suddenly whipping up like an oversized banner, snapped in the wind before catching it, hauling its severed ropes out of their rings. It began joyfully fluttering and twisting away in a slow, sinuous dance of freedom before a cruel, final gust of wind sent it downward into the sea.  
  
The Sundogs, suddenly bereft of power and being urged to the right, heaved to a stop. The bow rose up, the boat shifting hard right, as Ritter's cruiser plowed into them.  
  
Jim, gauging the impact, could see they were going to get sideswiped instead of split in two. He waited for the precise moment when the impact between the two boats would help him. The sounds of splintering fiberglass, the creaking scream of anguished, straining and breaking wood, along with the roar of engine and collision filled the air. Jim hurled himself forward, propelling himself over the rail as he launched himself over into Ritter's boat as the cruiser swept past them. He hit the deck hard, rolled to his feet, spotted his quarry, and attacked.  
  
The impact knocked Samantha cleanly off her feet, and she hit the deck hard, rolling helplessly down the boat and into the starboard rails. Blair's releasing the wheel as the cruiser roared by was the only reason she managed to stay on the boat. The Sundogs righted herself before settling. Sam's world was suddenly filled with a blinding white light, along with a searing buzz, as she collapsed to the deck.  
  
Blair looked starboard, only just seeing Jim grappling with Ritter. He couldn't help but notice the enormous gaping hole that had split the bow in two, great sheets of fiberglass peeling and breaking off as the cruiser plowed to her death dive.  
  
"Jim, you're going down!" Blair yelled, "Get off the boat!" He began running for the bow of the Sundogs.  
  
Barely noticing the sounds of another motor, Blair threw himself to the port side rail. Just above the waterline, and looking like giant fist had punched a hole in her, the Sundogs herself was beginning to take on water.  
  
"Damn!" he muttered and hurried back to the stern. A groan snapped his attention back to Sam.  
  
"Sammy?" he called, dropping to a knee next to her. She was barely moving. Looking around, Blair laid eyes on the dinghy. Scrambling to his feet, he felt the Sundogs lurch abruptly, causing him to stumble. Looking towards the bow, he could see the boat beginning to list to port, her nose starting to sink. He turned, poking at a button on the console and was rewarded with the sounds of a motor deep inside the boat churning to life. He then began unhooking the dinghy from the stern, glancing up as another cruiser suddenly raced by them. He looked starboard.  
  
Ritter's cruiser, not very far from them, was sinking fast. The twin props, still spinning, had begun to clear the water as the stern lifted.  
  
On board the cruiser, Jim had his quarry slapped up against the cabin wall with one fist clenched in the man's shirt, his other fist flying as he knocked him out.  
  
"JIM!" Blair roared, feeling the dinghy release and fall into the water as he jumped to his feet.  
  
Ellison spun his prisoner around, the cabin wall now tipping dangerously downward. He cuffed him, grabbed hold of his arm and threw him overboard. Jim then jumped in after him. A Canadian Coast Guard cutter circled in a wide arc around them, as Jim grabbed hold of a sinking Ritter, spun him around, and then concentrated on keeping them both afloat. Within seconds, the cutter slowed to a near stop, while a life preserver was being thrown to them.  
  
Blair turned his attention back to the dinghy feeling the Sundogs tipping gradually even more. Sam was sliding down the deck, to stop up against his legs.  
  
"Sammy!" He snapped, hearing her groan. Her eyes were struggling to open. Blair hauled in the dinghy, turning the little boat's side to the stern and using one of the bungee cords to hold it in place. Sam abruptly came to. A brief, pregnant, pause passed as she took in her bearings.  
  
"Oh no! Oh no!" she gasped, grabbing Blair's leg, trying to pull herself up.  
  
"Take it easy, Sam!" Blair growled, almost getting knocked over as she grabbed the console and pulled her self up with a cry of pain.  
  
"No!" she cried out seeing the position of the bow. She started to go forward, but Blair's arm neatly caught her and spun her back.  
  
"No!" she shrieked, starting to struggle. "Blair! No!"  
  
"Over you go, cuz!" He muttered grimly, pulling her around in front of him.  
  
"No! Don't let her sink!" she suddenly yelled. "Don't let go!" Blair frowned as he bent, scooping her legs out from under her.  
  
"Nooo!" she shrieked. Blair picked her up, lifted her over the rail and dropped her into the dinghy. As she landed onboard the smaller boat, Blair bent to let the bungee cord loose. Sam immediately grabbed for the rail, tipping the little craft precariously.  
  
"No you don't!" Blair growled. Grabbing her hand he began prying her fingers loose.  
  
"No! Don't let her sink! Don't let go! Don't let go!" Sam screamed, trying to push Blair's hands away. He could hear the odd note of panic in Sam's voice as she desperately tried hanging onto the Sundogs' rail. Freeing her hand, Blair pushed outwards. His hands clutching hers. One look at her eyes and Blair could see something wild and frightening replaying itself in them.  
  
"Don't let go!!" she wailed in protest as he shoved and let go of her hands. Sam fell backwards, tripping over the oars, before crashing to the deck. Blair bent, grabbing hold of the line keeping the boat tied to the stern. A quick wrench and the knot came loose. Blair threw the rope overboard, Sam's distraught scream echoing in his ears. He took one last anguished look at her, then turned, looking for Jim.  
  
He first caught sight of several people hauling an unconscious Ritter up the side of the Coast Guard Cutter. Then he caught sight of the winch mounted on the bow of the fifty-foot vessel. An idea popped into his head as his sweeping gaze looked around, finally locating Jim, still in the water and swimming hard towards him.  
  
Ellison, having heard the panicked screams coming from Sam, looked towards the listing Sundogs just in time to see Blair shoving the dinghy away.  
  
"Ellison!" Olssen's voice sounded nearby. "Catch!" Jim, treading water, glanced up at the Mountie as he was preparing to throw out another life preserver. Jim suddenly shook his head, waved once and began swimming to the dinghy.  
  
He came up on the opposite side of Sam, who was on her knees, trying to get to her feet, hands on the gunwale with the dinghy tipping to starboard. Jim grasped hold of the port gunwale. Pulling it down, he gave a powerful dolphin kick, hauling his drenched body up, using Sam's weight to even out the balance. He managed to get his upper half over the gunwale as his wrist gave out. Grasping for a support, Jim gritted his teeth and pulled his legs in after him, dropping gratefully into the dinghy. He then rolled onto his knees, reaching out and grabbing the back of Sam's shirt as she began to fall out of the little craft.  
  
"Don't let go!" she was screaming as he jerked her backwards. "No!"  
  
Sam suddenly began struggling like a wildcat. Jim ducked as her elbow came back, slamming hard into his wrist at just the right spot. He could feel and hear something snap as his hand suddenly weakened, going numb. Biting off the yell that threatened to tear out of him, Jim clenched down on his jaw, throwing the same arm around her waist, pinning one arm. He wrapped the other one around her, pinning her other arm down. He twisted, pulling Sam off her feet, and then quite literally bear-hugged her to him.  
  
"I've about had enough of you!" he growled, as she gasped at the pain his grip inflicted.  
  
"No, no, no, no, no, no, no." she was suddenly babbling, beginning to break down into sobs, unable to struggle against the arms pinning her down.  
  
"Don't let go, Tabby don't let go." Sam kept her eyes glued to the badly listing Sundogs, slowly losing her strength, continuing to plead with 'Tabby' not to let go, the tears rolling down her face.  
  
Jim, still angry, heard the name she cried and abruptly felt like someone kicked him the gut. He stared down at her, frowning his confusion, the corners of his lips pulling downwards.  
  
On the Sundogs, Blair scrambled forward, waving an arm to get the attention of anyone on the Cutter.  
  
"Hey! Hey!" he yelled, leaning hard to starboard as he started to slide down the bow that now dipped precariously into the water. His feet suddenly shot out from under him. His body reacted automatically to the training that had been drilled into him in recent months and he landed on his stomach, his hands taking most to the impact. He instantly scrambled forwards, reaching up and grabbing the lower starboard rail.  
  
"The winch!" he hollered. "Get the winch!" He hauled himself up as several men on board the cutter heard him.  
  
Within minutes, the cutter's winch swung out over the water, two crewmembers dangling off of it, as the pulleys operating the cables began lowering the main hook. Blair grabbed the top rail and turned, trying to use his own weight to keep the bow of the sailboat from going completely under.  
  
In the dinghy, slowly drifting aft and port of the Sundogs, following the current, Jim looked up from Sam as the two Coast Guard members dropped on the deck of the sailboat. Realizing Blair's intention, he looked down as Sam's head limply hit his arm.  
  
"Sam!" he snapped, taking her chin in his left hand. He bent low and turned her head.  
  
"Look!" he demanded, barking in her ear. "Look!" Sam, beginning to succumb to everything that was happening, was gasping now, unable to speak. Her eyes flickered, taking in the scene of the crippled sailboat. Jim glanced up seeing Blair slip a little in the waves washing up over the bow, but definitely helping the other two crewmembers secure the winch to the bow rail.  
  
"They're not letting go of her!" he urged, holding her head up. "They are not letting go of her!"  
  
On the Sundogs, Blair reached out as the winch swung near him, grasping the hook as one of the crewmembers found a place to scramble down onto the deck.  
  
"Whatever you guys do!" Blair implored, "Don't let this boat sink!"  
  
"We'll get her!" One of the men responded as they began to secure the winch to the bow. The second joined them. Orders and requests flew through the air between the winch crew and the members on the cutter as Blair lent a hand where he could. Within a few minutes the winch pulleys began to operate, and slowly, slowly the bow of the Sundogs began to rise out of the water. Crewmembers scrambled to affix bumpers on the Sundogs to prevent the sailboat from scraping up against the cutter.  
  
Blair nearly collapsed in relief across the starboard bow rails as the two crewmen, carefully peered over the port side to view the damage.  
  
"Damned lucky this craft was made out of wood!" One man remarked.  
  
"Whoever thought to heave to when they did was the one who kept this baby from sinking.that cruiser hit the reinforcements."  
  
Blair sighed in relief and looked for Jim again.  
  
Jim, watching the Sundogs bow rise up out of the water, felt Sam's head grow heavy. He looked down, and saw she had finally passed out. He heaved a sigh himself, releasing the tight grip he had on her and looking around. He saw they were drifting away, headed towards an oversized sea-stack that looked, from his position, like a small island. He glanced toward Blair and turned up his hearing  
  
"Hey guys, enough of the chit chat!" Blair was saying to the crewmembers. "My partner's out there with my cousin.mind sending someone out there to get them? I don't think he's able to row."  
  
Jim smirked and shook his head, looking down at his arm. Numbness was travelling up past his elbow and he could see swelling beginning in his wrist. Even his shoulder felt wrong, and he certainly had the awareness to tell him so. One of the crewmen nodded and called up to a member on the cutter.  
  
"Some get the Zenith ready! They," he waved an arm towards the dinghy. "Are unable to row. They're drifting towards Sentinel Island!"  
  
"Sentinel what!?!" Blair exclaimed. Then he began to laugh. Jim looked just as surprised as he looked over at the island in question. Then he began to shake his head, a rueful smile playing across his lips.  
  
It didn't take long to get an inflatable Zenith into the water. Jim just sat back in the dinghy, Sam still draped across his legs, and watched as the Sundogs suddenly gained a crew of several men who were securing the crippled sailboat, making her seaworthy to be towed to Prince Rupert. The intention was to keep her secured close to the cutter and carefully make their way back to port. He kept an ear tuned to Blair, and smiled wryly when one of the members asked him if he needed help getting up onto the cutter itself. Blair just gave a little chuckle and mentioned something about having aced his classmates out of this particular obstacle course challenge. He then proceeded to haul himself up one of the securing lines, hand over hand, to where a few crewmembers helped him up on the deck of the Coast Guard Cutter. Jim sighed his relief, glad now that Blair was off the Sundogs and patiently waited for help to come and get them. He let his hearing revert to normal just a hair too soon, totally missing Blair's gasp of surprise and dread.  
  
Jim insisted they take Sam up first before following more slowly after. Both Olssen and Blair were on hand to help him on deck, Sandburg immediately draping a blanket around his shoulders.  
  
"You all right?" he asked in concern, looking at the way Jim was cradling his arm.  
  
"I'm fine, Chief." Jim said smiling slightly. "Got the pain dials turned all the way down." He clutched the blanket around him as Olssen handed one back to Blair. Jim spotted Ritter, wavering badly, but conscious and surrounded by several men. There were several people happily congratulating themselves over the arrest. Jim looked alarmed and started to wave a hand at the group.  
  
"What the hell's that all about!" he protested, starting to move their way. "I was the one who caught him." Blair immediately blocked his path, placing a hand gently on his chest to stop him.  
  
"Uh Jim, we've got another problem.." he was starting to say.  
  
"Hey Ellison." Eric started to speak up. The group of men surrounding Ritter split up as a short, grey haired man, dressed in a white shirt so crisp and straight that the shoulders could have been used to set things on, came towards them. Jim spotted the classic dark slacks with the yellow stripe running up their sides. Standard Mountie uniform. Right behind him was a very tall, rather big, black man sporting a pair of very familiar gold rimmed glasses. Jim froze.  
  
"Simon!?" he exclaimed. Simon only smiled a certain mysterious, just- wait-'til-I get-you-alone, type of smile.  
  
"Ellison, Sandburg." he grinned wolfishly. The shorter grey haired man was looking at both of them. He had a nose even more crooked then Olssen's, and lips set in a thin line of disapproval. Jim noticed Eric stiffening his posture and found himself subconsciously doing the same. Both he and Blair looked pathetic, both still soaking wet and both minus their shoes. The shorter man, Blair's height to the tee, stepped up in front of Jim and looked him up and down.  
  
"Mr. Olssen tells me Mr. Ellison, that it is you whom we have to thank for the arrest of Mr. Howard Ritter. Is that correct?" The shorter man's voice was sharp, precise and definitely carried a strong French accent. His entire demeanor spoke of authority.  
  
"Yes sir." Jim automatically responded, feeling himself bristle, it was his collar, and now the Mounties were sweeping in to carry it all away. Eric, seeing Jim, cleared his throat, and began scratching surreptitiously at his temple, trying to look away.  
  
"Do we have a problem Mr. Olssen?" The shorter man immediately snapped.  
  
"No sir!" Olssen responded instantly. "None at all. Um, Inspector Cormiere, sir.Allow me to introduce Detectives James Ellison and Blair Sandburg of the Cascade Police Department."  
  
"I'm perfectly well aware of who they are, Corporal!" The clipped French accent cut the air like a sword. He looked from one partner to the other. "Their Captain has obliged me with that information." Simon carefully folded his arms and smiled sadistically at the two. The RCMP Inspector continued his apparent stare down with Jim, totally unfazed by Jim's blue eyes.  
  
"You can relax, Mr. Ellison. Mr. Olssen and a few of his compatriots had initially built the case history against Mr. Ritter, in spite of the rather slow cooperation of your Federal Bureau of Investigation. We are fully aware that without your apparent success at locating Mr. Ritter's source and the testimony of Miss McClennen in regards to the bombing of the Denali, we'd have no case. Then there is the fact that you, Detective, are the one who caught him. We plan on giving credit where credit is due. However." He looked from one detective to the other.  
  
"I was rather disturbed to find when we arrived this morning at the archeological site, that someone had blown the side of the cliff face down on it! What I would like to know is.who did it?" Blair and Jim looked at each other and pointed at the same time.  
  
"He did." They chorused. Simon buried his face in his hand.  
  
"He thought of it." Blair groused, and noticed another group of people who had been hovering over his cousin. They were picking her up in a makeshift stretcher made out of a blanket.  
  
"Uh, guys!" he said apologetically, beginning to bounce on his toes. "I gotta go." He glanced at Jim, who nodded imperceptibly; then he joined the men as they carried Sam off inside the ship. Cormiere looked like he was going to say something when Jim responded.  
  
"Miss McClennen is Mr. Sandburg's cousin. He's her next of kin." The other man scrutinized Ellison a moment then lifted his chin in acceptance.  
  
"So, detective, would you explain to me why you deemed it necessary to blow up a valuable archeological resource?" Jim suddenly smiled slightly, reaching up to scratch at his chin.  
  
"See that person they just hauled off?" he asked. "When she's awake.ask her."  
  
Eric Olssen dropped his head and groaned.  
  
"It's not her I am asking!" Cormiere snapped. Jim looked down at Cormiere, his ears picking up the sounds of a radio.  
  
"In light of the circumstances, sir, of what we found inside the site, it became clear we had to seal it off to protect what was inside. Especially from an artifacts collector who thinks it's necessary to eliminate potential rivals by blowing them out of the water."  
  
"And what gave you the authority to determine that the articles involved in this site were valuable enough to seal them off?!" Cormiere demanded. Jim's lips curled in a predatory and somewhat proud smile.  
  
"My partner, sir."  
  
"Your partner? What does Detective Sandburg have to do with it?"  
  
"Detective Sandburg holds a Masters in Anthropology from Rainier University. He's been on innumerable sites. The man's a walking encyclopedia on archeology and anthropology." Jim stated. Cormiere blinked. Jim smiled patiently, his head had tipped and Simon's eyes were growing wider in concern. He had long learned to recognize when Jim was listening in on things.  
  
"We took the extra precaution of making sure that a canvas tarp and cover where over the site entrance before we brought the cliff face down.I believe they just discovered it."  
  
"Sir!" Another man came boiling out of the ship's innards, rushing towards the group of men. Simon sounded like he was trying hard to hold back a sneeze.  
  
"Sir.The archeologists at the site have just found that someone protected the entrance before blowing the ridge over it." Jim smirked, raising a curious eyebrow at Cormiere who was taking a dispatch out of the hand of the newcomer. Olssen looked at Jim.  
  
"How did you know.?"  
  
"Don't ask." Simon growled in warning, trying hard not to smile.  
  
"That may be all well and good," Cormiere snapped, unsmiling, "But I also want to know Detective, how and where you got the explosives to bring that cliff face down! You are not a Canadian national!"  
  
"Nothing illegal was done, sir." Jim responded, trying to avoid Simon's eyes.  
  
"There was enough explosive to bring down several thousand cubic yards of earth on that site, Mr. Ellison! Do you really expect me to believe that nothing illegal was used to detonate it?" Cormiere demanded. Jim raised his eyebrows and nodded.  
  
"Yes sir," he replied. Cormiere's eyes shot daggers at Jim.  
  
"You expect me to believe that?"  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
"Enlighten me as to why, Detective." Cormiere demanded, his sarcasm dripping off his words.  
  
"All we used were matches, empty water bottles, some candles and flour. Sir." Jim replied, his face a picture of innocent composure. Simon was trying not to swallow his tongue. Olssen was shaking his head, squirming. Cormiere stared at Jim.  
  
"Flour?!" he asked, his accent dragging the 'r' out long.  
  
"Yes sir." Jim replied. Simon cleared his throat, loudly.  
  
"Inspector.Mr. Ellison is a former Army Ranger Captain. Special Ops." he said by way of explanation at the same time trying not to look Jim in the eyes. Cormiere looked at Jim in a new light, scrutinizing him carefully. Several long minutes passed as Cormiere and Jim faced off. Finally Cormiere's mouth lifted in the barest of smiles.  
  
"It is quite apparent Mr. Ellison, that we owe you a debt of gratitude. This dispatch confirms that there are, indeed, items of great value in the site. The arrest of Mr. Ritter is also the culmination of several years worth of hard work. We have more than enough evidence to bring the man to trial. Together with Miss McClennen's testimony and, I trust, Mr. Sandburg and yourself, would practically guarantee the Crown's case, thus bringing an end to this matter?"  
  
Jim looked at Simon then, trying not to smile at him. Simon just looked innocently away, his hand still over his mouth. Jim smothered his smirk and could see in Cormiere's eye the gleam of a diplomat. His respect for the man suddenly went up a notch.  
  
"I think when the time comes my partner and I will be available."  
  
Royal Hospital, Prince Rupert, Sat. Evening  
  
Blair was sound asleep. Jim smiled slightly as he stuck his head inside the door of Sam's room. Sprawled in a chair, next to the bed, his head tipped away, Blair slept like the dead. It never ceased to amaze Jim just how and where Blair could take catnaps until he reminded himself that at one point in time in his life, he had to do the same. Someone had found clothes for Blair and he had cleaned up. Now he slept like he hadn't a care in the world. Jim shook his head, glancing down at his clothes that Eric Olssen had brought him and readjusted the sling he now wore. His right wrist was encased in a soft cast. It did indeed feel a whole lot better having all that saltwater washed off of everything. He glanced at Sam.  
  
She was on her stomach, looking even smaller than ever. O2 tubes ran from her nose and the one hand he could see sported an IV needle taped neatly in place. She was too pale, almost the color of the sheets and was still oblivious to the world.  
  
Trying to remain quiet, Jim slipped into the room, but his movements woke his partner up. Blair frowned, sucking in air, and groaned. Sleepy eyes pried themselves open and glanced up balefully, expecting yet another doctor or a nurse. He relaxed when he saw Jim.  
  
"Hey Jim." he yawned then saw the cast. He sat up, pushing himself upright with the arms of the chair. "What'd the Doctor's say?"  
  
"It's broke." Jim replied. "Sorry to wake ya, Chief."  
  
"Oh no, no, no, no, no!" Blair mumbled, rubbing at his face with one hand and waving the other. "It's okay, I shouldn't be sleeping like this anymore anyway. Doc said it was broken?"  
  
"Yup. Neat clean break. No surgery required. Just wait for the swelling to go down and get a cast in Cascade. He popped my shoulder back in place too."  
  
"Your shoulder?" Blair asked looking at him, his eyes large. "What about your shoulder?"  
  
"Dislocated the damn thing. Had the dials turned down so low I didn't really notice it. Just that it felt awkward." He smiled a little sheepishly at the look of admonition coming from Blair. "It was only out a little," he added. Blair shook his head and sighed, glancing at Sam.  
  
"Sorry I wasn't around for all that," he said, waving a hand at Jim's arm.  
  
"Nothin' to apologize for there, Chief." Jim replied, letting the door slip shut. "You had a few other concerns."  
  
"Man, I tell ya! Getting the Sundogs into dry-dock around here is like pulling teeth with a two by four. If it hadn't been for some folks from Haida Gwaii with connections, she'd still be dangling from the Coast Guard Cutter."  
  
"Haida Gwaii?" Jim asked, studying Sam.  
  
"Formerly the Queen Charlotte Islands. The Haida ancestral home." Blair yawned. "They got wind that we found the site. Looks like they might even do the repairs on the Sundogs for Sam too. Woodwork is their specialty and apparently Sam Tsa Che', the Denali Captain? He was highly respected amongst them." Blair glanced at Samantha. "Then they told me how Sam was involved rehabilitating sea otters around Ninstints Island. Seems that they feel they need to do something for her." Blair sat back and sighed again, rubbing at his face.  
  
"Then we get to deal with her insurance company." He groaned and cast a baleful look at Jim.  
  
"How is she anyway?" Jim asked, looking for a chair.  
  
"Sammy? Exhausted, mostly." Blair replied as Jim grabbed a chair. "She'll be all right, just needs some time to rest and heal up."  
  
"Want to tell me why she went a little nutso on us out there?" Jim asked, plunking the chair down at the foot of the bed. He waved Blair back into his more comfortable seat as he was about to give it up for him. Blair grew quiet, watching Jim as he sat down and stretched out his long legs with a grateful sigh. Jim raised a curious eyebrow at him.  
  
"I got the distinct impression we were having a major flashback. Just don't tell me her family drowned. Her staying on the sailboat would be kinda sick," he said, readjusting the sling as he sat. Blair smiled, a little sadly and shook his head.  
  
"No, they didn't drown. It was a bus accident, you know those kind that happen down in South America all the time? This was in Argentina. Way up in the mountains." Blair heaved a sigh, glancing at his cousin as he settled back in the chair.  
  
"From what they reconstructed of the witnesses who survived, Uncle Alan and Aunt Ruth died instantly. Tabitha was in the bus and Sam was on a very narrow ledge just underneath. Apparently Tabitha helped pull Sam to safety, but in doing so lost her balance. She held on to Sam's hands until she realized that her weight was pulling the bus and the survivors over."  
  
It grew deathly still in the room.  
  
"Tabitha purposely let go of Sam's hands." Blair finished. "Sam's blamed herself for years that she should have held on tighter and not let her go. The survivors all knew that Tab gave up her life to save them all." Dark blue eyes met light blue ones.  
  
"Sam no doubt equated the Sundogs with the accident and lost it."  
  
"I guess you can't really blame her." Jim murmured quietly, feeling a little stunned. Blair nodded, continuing to look at his partner steadily.  
  
"Jim.there's something I need to ask you."  
  
Something in Blair's tone made Jim freeze momentarily. He frowned slightly, unconsciously going rigid.  
  
"If you say no, it's all right." Blair added, seeing him tense.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I know you've been poked and prodded by doctors all day and that you're probably really tired and that reaming Cormiere gave you, not to mention everything Sam's pulled the last few days."  
  
"What, Chief?" Jim asked uneasily. Blair just continued studying him.  
  
"She's my cousin, Jim."  
  
"And?"  
  
"Have you thought about where she's gonna go now that her home is in dry- dock?" Blair asked. "I mean it's gonna be awhile until it's seaworthy again, and she has no place else to go."  
  
"In the loft?!" Jim asked. Blair flinched.  
  
"She can have my room, I can take the couch. It's only temporary, Jim! I know Sam, she can't sleep away from water very long. She won't stay."  
  
Jim just stared at him, his mouth partially open.  
  
"Look if it's not okay, that's fine. I'll find someone else she can stay with. I thought of Megan, but her place is way too small. And Rhonda is way too involved with her steady. I even thought of Rafe, but, well, you know." Blair shrugged.  
  
"Chief, I." Jim started.  
  
"Look, Sam's neat as a pin. You have to be in a boat, there's not a whole lot of room in one."  
  
"Chief."  
  
"She's got a job too, or will once she gets there, she can even help pay rent. Plus she's got to start searching for a slip, 'cause she's gonna loose that one at Bayshore. I mean with the Sundogs dry-docked here."  
  
"Sandburg!" Jim snapped. Blair stopped, looking at him.  
  
"Look it's okay. We'll find something else."  
  
"Chief?" Jim asked looking plaintively at him. Blair paused, about to continue.  
  
"What?"  
  
"A girl? Living with a pair of crusty old bachelors?"  
  
"Well, I don't know who you're calling crusty," Blair's low voice responded. "Or old."  
  
Jim rolled his eyes and ran his free hand down his face. He sat back in the chair with a sigh.  
  
"Well?" Blair asked, looking at his partner. Jim just sat there, seeing the look of hope on his partner's face.  
  
"I go over the House Rules with her," he growled, pointing at himself.  
  
Blair's face lit up in a smile.  
  
Cascade, Monday Evening.  
  
It had been a little tricky, and he knew he shouldn't have done it, but somehow Jim drove the truck to Cascade Air Harbor. He sat in the parking lot, deciding that Blair was driving them home, and looked out over the skyline, searching for the floatplane bringing Blair and Sam to Cascade. The marina district was busy that evening, taking advantage of the glorious day and warm weather. People were out enjoying it while it lasted.  
  
He had pulled off his tie, tossing it on the dash, and awkwardly fumbled with the collar buttons. Somehow Simon had managed to pull some enormous strings and had gotten him in to get his wrist attended to before he had to be in court at 9:00 a.m. The rest of the day had proceeded at an extremely boring pace.  
  
He didn't wait long. Soon the plane appeared and he watched, as he tugged self-consciously at the strap on the sling, as the plane came in on its approach. It glided neatly over the water, then taxied to the dock. Jim sighed a little in relief. Blair was home.  
  
He popped open the door, climbing out, long fingers pushing down the latch and swinging the door shut with a loud klunk. He then reached up and tugged the right shoulder of his dress jacket back up. Curiosity was killing him and he decided a little eavesdropping wouldn't hurt.  
  
"It's all right, Sam." Blair was sighing. "For the thousandth time. He said it was okay."  
  
"Okay, okay," her tired voice reached his ear. "But the guy probably hates my guts."  
  
"You're just living up to your nickname!" Blair joked. "And Jim has to have a really good reason to hate someone's guts. And when he does.Look out!"  
  
Jim smothered a smirk, shaking his head as he ambled towards the grassy little park next to the charter plane's office. He could hear Sam groaning as they entered the building.  
  
"As if I haven't given him enough reason? After everything I've done I also break the guy's arm."  
  
"Wrist." Blair corrected. "You remember doing that?"  
  
"Do I ever forget anything?" she replied sounding distinctly weary.  
  
"Oh yeah, forgot about that. Don't even think of going to get your luggage! Doc said no lifting. You're still wiped out."  
  
"Blair." Sam groaned.  
  
"You can 'Blair' me all you want, Sam, it ain't gonna work!" Jim heard him reply and could almost picture him wiggling two pairs of fingers in the air for quote marks.  
  
"You heard the doctor as well as did! No lifting, no pulling, no pushing. Absolutely no sailing, no working, three square meals a day, take your medication and your pain pills on time, sleep when the need comes upon you. In other words.shut up and rest!"  
  
"You're getting as bad as your mother." she muttered. Blair barked out a laugh.  
  
"Oh hey, there's Jim. What the hell's he doin' down here alone?" Blair started to say as, even from a distance, he stopped and looked towards his partner. Jim only smiled. Sam looked his way then froze, staring at him for a moment. Jim frowned at her surprised look and glanced down at himself. Dress shoes, dark grey cotton Dockers, grey jacket with the one arm not being used, clean white shirt, gun in its belt holster, he didn't look that bad? Sam suddenly looked very uncomfortable, her face getting paler and turning to face her cousin.  
  
"I bet he's heard everything we've said!" she whispered at him in horror.  
  
"Who him? Would he do that? Look, go on up and join him. I'll go get our stuff. Then I'm gonna find out why he drove here alone." Blair glanced over at him as Jim looked innocently away.  
  
"Blair!" Sam protested.  
  
"Will you just go?" Blair replied and set off to retrieve their luggage. He was just out of Sam's hearing range when he added under his breath. "And don't think for a minute Jim, that I don't know you're listening in. You are gonna be so sorry you drove here on your own. I want those damn truck keys! Oh yeah.go easy will ya? She's tired and bummed out."  
  
Jim refrained from shaking his head, but rolled his eyes slightly, and waited as Sam slowly made her way to where he stood. She still looked way too small to him. Her face had little color and the circles under her eyes made her features look gaunt. For a change, the impossible dark blonde curls were actually pulled back in a band. She had one of Blair's shirts on, her jeans, and a pair of boater's minus the socks. Jim, Blair, and Simon all knew most of her belongings had been soaked, some beyond repair.  
  
"Sammy," he said casually as she approached, looking everywhere, but at him. "Good flight?"  
  
"Yeah.it was okay." she replied softly.  
  
"You look better," he commented. She shrugged. Her gaze met his, almost timidly.  
  
"You look." her eyes looked him over as if seeing him for the first time. The casual suit clothes, then the sling. "Trussed up."  
  
Jim suddenly smiled, chuckling slightly.  
  
"Like a Christmas goose." he joked dryly. "Blair's gonna be a few minutes. You look tired. Why don't we have a seat?" he said, nodding at nearby picnic table and held out his good hand. Sam frowned slightly, starting to look away, but then swallowed.  
  
"I suppose this is where you chew me out? We didn't have a whole lot of luggage." she said very calmly. Jim grinned.  
  
"You're quick." he said. "Have a seat."  
  
"I'll stand." she replied. Jim stopped, looking down and meeting her hazel eyes.  
  
"Sam.I'm not gonna chew you out." he said gently. "I just want to talk with you a minute. Is that okay?" She just stared a moment then sighed and slipped onto the picnic table bench. He could not ignore her involuntary sigh of relief. He sat across from her, turned slightly sideways, his legs out from under the bench itself.  
  
"Look," she started. "I'm really not up to getting chewed out. I'm really very tired, and the Doc did warn about overexertion."  
  
"So don't fight it." Jim replied, gazing at her, studying her face. Sam was staring off over the water, looking wistful, weary, and uncomfortable. The Doctors in Prince Rupert had told them all that she had pushed herself way too hard, apparently having done so since the Denali's explosion to the point of collapse at the Sundogs near sinking. There also appeared the lingering, haunting, far away look of relieving the painful memories of her past.  
  
"I've already apologized to you once on the boat. And I apologized to Blair also. What more do you want?"  
  
"What more do I want?" Jim asked quietly, still studying her. She refused to look his way, keeping her gaze out over the water, watching the people go by.  
  
"Well, look at me for one thing. I'm not gonna bite."  
  
A tiny bit of color appeared on her cheeks as she abruptly looked down at her hands, clenched together on the table. She sighed and glanced shyly up at him.  
  
"That's a little better." he smiled disarmingly. Her gaze dropped back down to her hands. He sighed softly.  
  
"Sam, I just need you to understand something." he said, waiting patiently.  
  
The sounds of the mild summer evening's activities washed gently over them, mimicking the waves gently rolling onto the beach. As she sat and thought, the tantalizing aroma of food drifted in from far behind Jim's back.  
  
"What's that?" she asked quietly.  
  
"You know about me, don't you? This Sentinel thing. And why Blair and I work together, don't you?" he asked.  
  
"What? About your senses?"  
  
"Yup."  
  
"Yeah, I'm familiar with his research.I'm just finding it a little hard to believe that he actually found someone." She trailed off, lifting her eyes briefly to meet his. She shrugged, winced and looked away again. "It's just a bit extraordinary."  
  
"Well it is." Jim admitted. Sam's focus drifted away from him, gazing at something far beyond his shoulder.  
  
"There's something about our working situation that you need to know though," he reiterated.  
  
"And that is?" she asked, glancing back at him, apprehensive.  
  
"What we do is very serious work. I'm sure you appreciate that," he said soberly.  
  
"What? Being a detective? Sure I do," she replied, her voice sounding small.  
  
"However, what Blair and I do is just a little more important, because of what I can do."  
  
"With enhanced senses? I'm sure that's true too."  
  
"It requires a lot of discretion, Sam. And I also need to know that Blair is going to be there when I need him. If you're familiar with Blair's research, you know that he is just a little bit more than just being my partner."  
  
Sam, whose eyes had gazed off back over his shoulder, looked back at him. Jim's normally formidable blue eyes were gentle now, compassionate. She blinked, studying them a moment before looking away, feeling uncomfortable still. He was waiting on her.  
  
"He's mentioned something about a guide that is needed when backing up a Sentinel. I read his book, the one by Sir Richard Burton?"  
  
"Then you are aware of how important Blair really is to me when we are out working on a case."  
  
Sam pondered his words.  
  
"Pretty serious eh?" she asked. Jim nodded slightly.  
  
"Knowing this, you'll understand how important it is for me not to have Blair put into situations like what has happened this past week." Jim said carefully.  
  
"Look," Sam sighed wearily, a fire kindling itself in her multicolored eyes. "I didn't know and I have already apologized!"  
  
"I know you were unaware of the situation and that you have apologized. I'm just asking you to consider how important Blair's role has become, not just to me in the guidance I need with these senses, but as we use them in the field of work we are in. We have to be extremely careful, and the need for discretion is paramount. Blair and I have had difficulties with it before." Jim explained carefully. "And Sam." he added. "If you find yourself in a situation where you need help? Don't hesitate to ask, and please.tell us everything that is going on." She glanced up at him, thinking his words over.  
  
"It's just so hard to imagine Blair working as a cop.." She said softly, frowning her perplexity, and looking back down at her hands.  
  
"Considering what he was aiming for, I can imagine the change is a bit of a shock. But I'll tell you somethin,." Jim said, catching her attention again. She looked back up.  
  
"Blair's one of the best detectives I've ever worked with," he said with emphasis. She studied him a moment, the corner of her mouth crooking slightly.  
  
"Blair's always had a knack with puzzles and people," she said softly, her gaze drifting past Jim's shoulder again. She sighed. Looking back down at her hands again.  
  
"I never dreamed he'd go in this direction, though," she added.  
  
"I don't think he did either, but between you and me? He got bit by the bug four years ago." Jim smiled at the startled look she gave him. "You understand now why it's important that I know he's all right, and available?"  
  
"Yeah, sure I do," she said, smiling shyly. "Now that it's been explained a little." Her gaze wandered back over his shoulder.  
  
"When you get rested up a little, you and I can go over the House Rules, then." Jim said as he spotted Blair emerging from the Charter office, his backpack over his shoulder and carrying another. Sam frowned.  
  
"House Rules?" she asked.  
  
"Since you are going to be staying with us a while, there's a few thing you need to know about living in the Loft." Jim replied. Sam's frown deepened as she gazed at him a moment, then her eyes again wavered, looking far beyond him. The corners of Jim's mouth tugged down as he looked at her, then he twisted in his seat, looking behind him.  
  
The grassy sward fronting the beach had a sidewalk meandering through it, upon which people walked, jogged, and skated. The evening's perfect temperature having brought a lot of people out to play, enjoying the waning summer day and the gorgeous sunset it promised to a beautiful city. Further beyond, dockside attractions took over, an eclectic mixture of Import shops, concessionaires, fishing charters, fast food restaurants, and various others. Jim looked back at Sam, seeing nothing amiss.  
  
"What are you looking at?" he asked. Sam suddenly blushed, looking away and trying to hide her embarrassment.  
  
"I'm sorry." she hastily apologized. "That food I smell is driving me nuts. I'm kinda hungry."  
  
Jim blinked in surprise just as Blair joined them.  
  
"Keys." he announced, snapping his fingers then holding out his hand. Still looking at Sam and feeling a bit chagrined, Jim reached into his pocket and absently handed Blair his truck keys, gaining a surprised look from his partner.  
  
"You hungry, Chief?" Jim asked.  
  
"Me? I could eat a horse." Blair said. "Charter service didn't even give us a bag of peanuts coming down." he grumbled. He looked at Sam pointedly. "And you need to get something in your stomach. That little episode you went through taking those pain killers this morning on an empty stomach was, like, so not funny!"  
  
"Where to?" Jim asked, looking up at him. Blair had looked down the marina district.  
  
"There's that Thai place, serves a mean red curry. There's that Russian place too. Oh wait!" he said excitedly. "There's that new Jamaican Seafood place I've heard so much about. It's in easy walking distance too." He looked expectantly at the others. Jim was rolling his eyes trying not to sigh. Sam had closed her eyes, her shoulders drooping.  
  
"Blair.I live on seafood. Can't we get something else?" She asked plaintively, looking up at him.  
  
"You're not into eating weird food are you?" Jim asked cautiously.  
  
"Hey!" Blair protested.  
  
"As in how weird?" Sam asked glancing shyly back at Jim.  
  
"Things he eats." Jim stated nodding at Blair. Sam grimaced.  
  
"I'm not that bad."  
  
"Sam!" Blair snapped.  
  
"You know what I'd really like? I haven't had one in ages."  
  
"What's that?" Jim asked, gathering his long legs in and standing slowly up, tugging his jacket back over his trussed up arm. Blair suddenly looked at Sam in alarm.  
  
"Don't you even!" he threatened.  
  
"What?" she asked, looking at him in surprise and confusion.  
  
"Yeah what?" Jim asked. Then he looked at Sam.  
  
"Ladies choice." he announced with firm finality.  
  
"Ahhh! No! Jim!" Blair protested.  
  
"What is it you haven't had in a long time?" Jim asked, looking curiously down at Sam, who was squirming in embarrassment. "C'mon, you can tell me." She sighed, looking everywhere but at him.  
  
"I'd really like a Wonderburger Gutbomb." she said in a self-conscious voice.  
  
There was a long pause as Jim stared down at Sam, his blue eyes absolutely unreadable for several seconds. Blair groaned in exasperation. Sam fidgeted nervously. She glanced up at Jim.  
  
The sun was suddenly shining from a different location as Jim smiled beatifically down at her. He held his good hand out to her.  
  
"For the Lady, anything!" he said happily. Sam blinked at him in surprise, studying his face, looking for any sign of deception.  
  
"Really?" she asked. Jim only smiled encouragement, still holding his hand out.  
  
"So long as we get the Double shot of French fries." he said. Sam hesitantly placed her small hand in his, and he gently helped her up from the picnic table.  
  
"Oh man, I love their fries." she sighed.  
  
"I can hear my arteries clogging now!" Blair snapped. A slow smile was appearing on Sam's face as Jim offered her his free arm. Shyly, she slipped her hand around his forearm, as she turned her head away, trying not to blush. Jim began leading them towards the nearby Wonderburger, the smile beaming from his face.  
  
"You like it with bacon?" he asked, not missing the flush of pink in her cheeks.  
  
"Gotta have bacon!" she said, smiling slightly. "Onion?" she asked him.  
  
"Have to have onion!" Jim said.  
  
"Do you know how many grams of fat are in a Gutbomb!?" Blair demanded.  
  
"Double cheese?" Sam asked, as Jim settled them into a slow walking pace.  
  
"Must have double cheese, and the half pounder too." Jim added.  
  
"Your cholesterol counts are gonna have conniptions!" Blair intoned darkly.  
  
"Blair." Sam said quietly. "If you don't shut up I am gonna tell him everything about the anteater."  
  
"Don't you threaten me!" Blair replied. "I'll tell him what we used to call you in college!"  
  
"Tell him all you want. I'd still like a Wonderburger 1/2 pounder, double cheese, Gutbomb with onion and bacon."  
  
"And the double shot of fries." Jim added, still smiling.  
  
"You'll understand why she was called this after that boat ride she just took us on!" Blair threatened.  
  
"I told you he had just learned to throw those bola's in Argentina when we found an anteater, didn't I?" Sam asked Jim.  
  
"Yeah somewhere around there."  
  
"Sam! Don't you dare!" Blair snapped. She looked over at him, a wicked glint appearing in her hazel eyes.  
  
"Where did those gauchos find you again?"  
  
"Sam!"  
  
"What did they call you in college?" Jim asked.  
  
"Sam! You tell him any more about that anteater and so help me.."  
  
Sam looked up at her escort, smiling lopsidedly up at him. He glanced down at her.  
  
"They used to call me Hurricane Sam."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Postscript  
  
When I set out to write this story, I was determined to learn how to sail in my head. Without TAE's help. I'd've sunk by now!  
  
Eric Olssen and Inspector Cormiere were 'borrowed' from Alliance Television's North of 60, one of Canada's most successful nighttime Drama shows ever. It featured an incredibly unique ensemble cast of Native American actors along with a few Caucasian actors as well. The character of Eric however, was abruptly removed and I simply couldn't let him go!  
  
The Makah reservation on the far Northwestern tip of the Olympic Peninsula in Washington state does house the Ozette dig in a museum built especially for it. It contains a remarkable collection of canoes, toys, baskets, clothes and even the doghair plaid blankets. The drive up there is rugged and incredibly beautiful. Well worth the trip! Also you must go to the Tatoosh Island Lookout. That is the most Northwesterly point of the contiguous United States.  
  
The Sundogs is modeled after a Compac27 racer/cruiser style of sloop. Known for it's speed, agility and ability to spin on a dime. A smart little racing sailboat.  
  
The Islands described actually exists. Haida Gwaii, Ninstints, Banks, Pitt, McCauley, and Dolphin Islands are all located just below Prince Rupert on your map of British Columbia. And yes, there really is a tiny little island just below Dolphin called, Sentinel Island!  
  
If you want to know more about flour bombs? Go ask Tonie.  
  
The rest of this is all purely a work of fiction! Done for the joy of writing, no money involved.  
  
Enjoy!  
  
Yes, there is another story in the works. Bwahahahahahaaaa! 


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